


Count The Cracks, Hear The Shatters, Feel The Insanities.

by dreamer_of_dreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fallen Castiel, Friendship, Gen, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post Season 8, Sacrifice, Self-Harm, s08e23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:21:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 67,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer_of_dreams/pseuds/dreamer_of_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've walked miles on gravel roads that led to hell and back but the journey never quite ends. This is the story of Castiel and the Winchesters after the angels fell from heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Down and Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt of writing fanfiction. So, any and all feedback will be highly appreciated. I will be writing the fiction by chapters. So, if you guys have any ideas or thoughts on what needs to be added, please feel free to let me know. Thank you for reading. :)

This was it. Not the Apocalypse, not the dark times that followed, not Purgatory. But _this_ , this was the end of Castiel. The one time that an end is permanent. The only time it mattered. No resurrections, no penance, nothing. Just like that, he’s no longer an angel. He had been prepared in so many instances to die or to fall but he always imagined a reason behind it. A purpose. A greater good. He knew someday his long life will come to a halt but he figured he’d always go down heroically. Maybe he’d die for Dean. Or Sam. Maybe he’d die in the hands of his brother, Lucifer. Maybe he’d rebel against Naomi and lose his grace for humanity. But never did it ever cross his mind that he would lose everything and everyone over nothing. 

Castiel watched the sky lit with blazing balls of fire and he couldn’t help but think how hauntingly beautiful they were. Like fireworks and shooting stars. It only served to break his heart in more ways because he had completely destroyed an entire population of God’s creation. He felt his vision blurring as he kept his eyes fixed on the sky, unconsciously counting the number of falling angels. Unconsciously enumerating the devastation he had caused. Then, he felt wetness on his face that made him shiver a little when the wind blew gently, caressing him. Castiel touched his face and withdrew his hands when he felt tears. It was a foreign feeling. He never understood why humans cry when they’re sad and why they cry when they’re happy. He never learnt how to tell the difference. And the only good thing that came out of him being human now was that he could cry and empty the burdens in his heart. He could wash his sins in tears. Or at least, he could attempt to. So he wept helplessly. He fell to the ground and choked as sobs tore their way out. He wept till he felt his lungs constrict with the lack of air. 

And in between his shuddering sobs, he whispered over and over again, _“Forgive me, Father.”_


	2. Let It Go, Brother

Dean knelt down and held on tightly to Sam while he watched the angels falling. Sam, being very distressed and in pain, sat with his back pressed against the Impala and was hardly able to keep his eyes open. Dean had his arms wrapped around Sam protectively and had his body shielding him as if he was afraid that an angel might fall right on top of Sam. Sam jumped every time he heard a crash. Dean didn’t know what to do. For a long moment, he forgot how to move. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on his prayer. 

_Cas, you son of a bitch. What have you done this time? You…you okay? Cas, if you can hear me, please… just come here now._

It was difficult to focus with residents of heaven being evacuated over their heads. And then he mentally cursed himself because obviously, if Castiel is falling, he’s not going to hear Dean’s prayers any more. And this led to a full minute of internal panic attack because how is he supposed to reach out to Castiel now? When he finally could form coherent thoughts, he realised that at this moment, he could be losing the only two living souls that he cared about. He had to set his priorities straight. He can’t possibly help Cas right now. 

_Sam. You gotta watch out for Sammy. He comes first._

Without uttering a word, Dean tugged on Sam’s hand as Sam groaned in pain and stood up shakily. 

“Dean… where’s Cas?” he asked when he realised that this meant that Castiel must have fallen too and could have crashed anywhere. 

“I don’t know.” 

He couldn’t be bothered about the way his voice sounded wrecked because that was exactly how he felt. He put Sam’s arm around his shoulder to steady him and almost fell forward when Sam bent his body and screamed in agony. 

“Hang on, Sammy. You’re gonna be fine. I’ll fix you up and you’ll be okay. Just… hang on.”

By this point, tears were streaming down his face as a dagger drove through his heart at the sheer helplessness he felt. Dean really didn’t know how to save his brother. He didn’t know how long Sam would last. But he mounted Sam into the car and drove away anyway although he didn’t know where exactly he was supposed to go. 

Dean hesitantly drove to the Man of Letters bunker that night when Sam insisted that no medical treatment can do him any good. He then assisted Sam to get into his bed and perched in a chair next to him all night, watching Sam drift off into a fitful sleep. Sam woke up countless times in the night, his hands gripping his chest like he suffered from a cardiac arrest. Dean did all he could. He made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich that he knew Sam likes. But Sam could barely sit up, let alone eat. He held a bucket out for Sam whenever he puked his guts out. The only reassurance Dean got was that he wasn’t puking blood any more. And when Sam trashed in his sleep like he had nightmares, Dean just held his hand and reminded Sam that he was right there. That everything will be okay. He didn’t believe it himself but if it’s the last thing Sam was going to hear, he needed to make sure that Sam didn’t feel scared and alone. Sam had his brother next to him at every passing hour that night as though Dean tried to prove with his actions what he -more often than not- couldn't express in words. That no matter which way this ends, no matter what Sam believes, Dean will always be there and care for his little brother. No one and nothing can change that.


	3. Raise Havoc

About a week after persistent vomiting, intense drowsiness and stabbing pain in the chest, Sam finally recovered enough to slowly make his way to the bathroom with Dean’s assistance. He looked a little more human after taking a shower. The heat of the water brought some colour back to Sam’s face. Dean stayed home the entire time, not even bothered to check for any suspicious deaths or potential cases. He cooked for Sam and made sure his brother was comfortable. Dean was truly beginning to believe that Sam would be alright after all. He was healing. Very slowly, yes, but he didn’t look like he laid in his death bed any longer. 

With that, his mind seemed to find a way back to thoughts of Castiel. He was pretty convinced that Castiel must have died. He did keep an eye on the news. There was a huge press coverage on the phenomena of thousands of shooting stars around the world. At the break of dawn, thousands of people were found lying on the ground, unconscious. It doesn’t take much for Dean to know that they were the fallen angels. All concerned authorities worked their asses off to figure out who these people were and most of them could be identified as missing people from a long time back. The police basically identified the vessels. The angels can’t remember who they were and the human souls that previously owned the vessels were long gone. So, all the police had in their hands were a shitload of people who went missing years back with no memory whatsoever. This opened up the cold cases and the world was utterly perplexed for there was no logical reason for the discovery of these people. The police did what they could to track down close relatives that could provide a shelter to these mysterious beings. 

The news channels were exploding with conspiracy theories and assumptions of alien activities. They also aired the list of names of people who were identified so that the public could stay informed. Dean did not see the name, Jimmy Novak. Which meant one of two things. Either his wife and kid got to him or Castiel died. Either way, there’s absolutely nothing Dean can do about it but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty. He wanted to pay a visit to Amelia and Claire to ask if they had found Jimmy but he realised that it didn’t matter. Castiel wouldn’t remember anything. He might as well begin a new life as Jimmy Novak with a loving wife and child. He didn’t have to end up in the shithole Dean and Sam lived in. And if Castiel is dead, well, there’s that. Dean will have to add another name to the list of dead people and another severed wound to his heart and carry on despite the constant agony till the day he gives up the ghost.


	4. E.T. Goes Home

About a month later, Dean aroused from his restless sleep when the phone rang loudly. He turned on the bedside lamp and stared at the screen with his weary eyes. Unknown number. He glanced at the clock and noticed that it was 2.38 am. Who could be calling him at this time? 

His first thought was _Oh shit! Crowley’s still alive. It could be Kevin or Garth._

How could he be so moronic to forget that Crowley’s still out there, alive and kicking and probably ready to unleash the wrath of Hell? He picked up the phone hurriedly.

“Hello.”

There was only a ragged breathing noise.

“Hello. Who’s there?”

No answer. The invisible dagger sticking out of his chest just twisted. 

_Could this be…? No, it can’t. It’s impossible._

But even so, Dean couldn’t help the flicker of hope that was ignited in him. Maybe he’s a delusional fool but hope’s all he has got. Can you blame him for holding on?

“Cas?” he whispered, fearing that if he spoke any louder, the person on the other end would disconnect.

All he heard in return was a whimper.

“Cas? Is that you?” he forced his voice out despite it breaking. 

“Dean. Will you help me? Please.” 

Castiel sounded so raw and torn apart. Dean had never heard him sound like that before. He sounded so vulnerable. He sounded so… **human**.

“Yeah… Yeah of course, Cas. I will.” 

Dean sucked in a shuddering breath before his lungs collapsed and felt a sense of certainty flood his mind. **Now** , he could finally help Castiel. He had a task at hand. He had to save his best friend.

“Where are you? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you.”

Dean could hear Castiel asking someone where he is and could hear a faint voice mumbling something he couldn’t make out. Then, Castiel directed his attention back to Dean and informed of his whereabouts. He also started babbling about borrowing a lady’s phone and calling Dean and how he’d have to return it and he’d wait in the bus stop until Dean arrived. Dean put down the phone and quickly pulled into a pair of jeans before grabbing his car keys. He thought of waking Sam up and letting him know that he’d be gone because it would take Dean at least ten hours to get there and another ten to return home provided that he doesn’t stop at all. But then again, if Sam knew, he’d want to tag along. And he was in no condition to be trapped in a car that long. He needed rest. Lots and lots of rest. So, Dean wrote a note explaining where he was going and left some cash for Sam to order Chinese food or pizza for himself. He placed it on Sam’s bedside table. Sam usually wakes up at the slightest rustle of footsteps. But that was when he was in his best form. Lately, he sleeps like a log. Not that Dean’s complaining. In fact, he’s relieved to see Sam rest well.

With that, he drove away into the night with an old map by his side. Considering that their lives have always been on the road, he knew how to get to any state by now but he would need directions to get to the specific location that Castiel mentioned which was a small bus stop opposite of Walmart in a small town. As he stared straight ahead at the dark, quite desolate highway, he was overwhelmed by the concoction of emotions he felt. He was excited and relieved and scared and nervous and angry. The gloom of the night had its way of provoking and harassing Dean. It unsettled him with the vulnerability it dragged in. In the dark, he felt open. Like someone ripped open his ribcage to display his true self to the world. He felt too much. He hated it but he couldn’t stop himself. The silence wasn’t helping either. Usually he had Sam next to him. Even if Sam were asleep, his soft snores would keep Dean company. Driving alone, there was only ear-splitting silence that floated around him. He purposely turned on the radio loudly to replace the feeling of nothingness and drove on.

When he finally neared the bus stop, he could feel his heart thumping away. He was scared. He didn’t know what to expect. He turned the radio off and took a deep breath. He halted the car in front of the bus stop before peering out. The first thing he noticed was that Castiel had beard. The second thing was his unruly, dirty state. This Castiel looked like the Castiel he found in Purgatory. Dean in the confines of his mind views Castiel in different facets. Like the many chapters of a book. Like the sides of a diamond. Because how else is he supposed to forgive Castiel if he looks at him the same way he did when Castiel broke Sam? Or when he declared himself the new God? Or when he let out the Leviathans? Or when he left even after Dean told him that he needed him? So, that is Dean’s coping mechanism. He separates the good, the bad and the ugly. Right now, he’s trying to hold on to the good side of Castiel. The one that rebelled against Heaven for him, the one that threw a Molotov at Michael in a futile attempt to save Sam. 

Castiel opened the passenger side door and bent down to look at Dean as though he was asking for permission to enter the car. He must have been aware of his soiled clothes and he knew how precious the Impala was to Dean. 

“Get in.” Dean said quietly. 

Castiel sat down gingerly and adjusted himself before closing the door. 

“Thank you,” he answered just as quietly and avoided looking at Dean.

Dean was about to drive back when he saw the Walmart and remembered how hungry and worn out he was. So, he told Castiel to sit in the car while he gets them something to eat. He would have brought Castiel along but he looked like a hobo and Dean didn’t think he’d want to tag along anyway. He shut his door, stretched his body and already walked a few steps around the car when something in him rang like a siren. He quickly walked over to the passenger's side and opened the door and waited. Castiel just stared back at him. He was clueless. 

“I don’t need you running away again. So you’re coming with me.”

“Dean… I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t trust you. So come on, get out.”

“Dean…”

“Let’s go, Cas. Stop wasting my time.”

“I’m famished. The last I ate was four days ago when a human offered me food in kindness. I’ve been walking ever since. I’m tired, Dean. Can I just sit in here? I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Hearing that felt like someone pulled the dagger out from Dean’s chest and stabbed him repeatedly at the same spot. Castiel who prided himself on being the angel of the Lord, the warrior of Heaven, the celestial being that raised Dean from hell and could smite any number of demons effortlessly is now sitting in Dean’s Impala, jaded and almost pleading Dean to let him rest. Dean opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. So, he cleared his throat and tried again.

“Okay… I’ll be back real quick. Get you some grub.”

He then shut the door and sort of jogged across the street to the convenience store. There, he got all the necessary items to cook a proper meal when he reaches back home. He also bought eight chicken sandwiches -two for Dean and six for Cas for him to last the next ten hour drive- and two slices of apple pie –one for each. The look on Castiel’s face when he passed the sandwich made Dean feel very guilty. He should have looked for Castiel. He shouldn’t have assumed that he was dead. Dean did to Cas the same thing that Sam did to Dean when he was in Purgatory. He gave up on him. He watched Castiel take huge bites of the sandwiches although they didn’t taste that good. The food was edible. Enough for Dean to kick start the engine and continue the long journey ahead. Castiel -after swallowing four of the sandwiches and his slice of pie- dozed off with his head resting on the window. Dean didn’t turn on the radio this time because he no longer felt alone. The silence was no longer deafening. He could hear the slow, deep breaths and soft snores as Castiel slept. Dean wondered how many days Castiel went on without resting because he didn’t move a muscle since he fell asleep. Not even when Dean stopped the car in the petrol station to refill the tank. Not even when he accidentally shut the door a little too loud when he climbed back into the car. Not that Dean would complain. He was relieved to see Cas rest well.


	5. Everybody Hurts

Sam was waiting for them to come home. That much was clear from the way he was looming at the front door the minute Dean parked the Impala. Castiel was surprisingly still asleep. But he had changed his position and looked quite uncomfortable. His back might kill him tomorrow, now that he’s no longer an angel and all. Dean shook Castiel’s shoulder but he didn’t wake up. He just groaned and shifted a little. 

“Cas!” Dean called a little louder than necessary.

Castiel rose so quickly he accidentally hit his head against the grab handle. 

“Shit! You okay?” 

It seemed like Dean had been asking the same question over and over again in the past month. Only the person it was directed to have changed. 

“Yes. I’m fine. Are we home?”

Dean felt certain warmth when Castiel referred to the bunker as home. Because that’s exactly what it is. A new found home to the Winchesters other than the Impala. A permanent shelter –at least for now. The Winchesters’ Lair. But to have Castiel call it home, that’s noteworthy. It made Dean feel like nothing is all too bad. Things will get better. They’ll work things out, just like they always do. And maybe this time, Castiel will stay –not like he has anywhere else to go. But Dean doesn’t want to think of it that way. He wants to believe that Castiel’s there by choice. Not due to the lack of choice. 

He remained silent but got out of the car, indicating that they’ve reached their destination. Castiel -still a little confused since he just woke up- slowly got out of the car and stretched his body. He could hear the pops and cracks as his joints return to their normal positions. His neck hurt and his body felt sore but by now, he was used to it. He had been walking for an entire month in search of… something. He doesn’t know what. Not like he had any reasons to stay alive. So, he just kept walking to keep his mind away from coming up with creative ideas on how to end his life. And somewhere along the line, he decided to go back to what he knows. The only family he had left. He wished they still considered him family. There was no way of telling. Nevertheless, he walked into the bunker and into the open arms of the younger Winchester. They didn’t quite hug. It was awkward. Like Sam intended to hug but changed his mind when Castiel reacted too slowly. So, they just sort of patted each other’s shoulders and stared wistfully. As though they were silently acknowledging how they both failed at the ultimate task they set out to do and were broken beyond repair. 

“So… did you eat something, Sammy?”

“Uhmm… No. I ate lunch, I mean. Haven’t had dinner. Should I order something?”

“Nope. I’m cooking.”

Dean entered his bedroom while Sam slowly made his way to the kitchen to see what Dean had bought. He had all the ingredients to make spaghetti. And quite a lot of canned foods too. Dean must be stocking up so he doesn’t have to go out often. Dean walked out with a worn out t-shirt, gray sweatpants, a new pair of boxers and a towel. He put it all on the couch before looking at Castiel and pointing towards them.

“Go take a shower. You know your way around.”

Somehow, Dean just sounded pretty monotonous all day. Castiel was beginning to feel like Dean looked at him as an obligation. It felt like Dean was angry but he kept his voice steady to avoid letting the anger seep through. Like Dean was instructing more than offering. Castiel did as he was told anyway. Dean began unpacking all the items and dicing the tomatoes and onions to make spaghetti sauce. Sam –already tired from standing for ten minutes- sat on the couch and watched TV. Castiel was out of the shower 45 minutes later and the meal was almost done. He probably got carried away and decided to let the lukewarm water dissolve the tensions in his muscle. That or the fact that he was so dirty, he might have needed all that time to clean himself thoroughly. He still had beard and his hair was sticking out in every direction but he looked clean. Before Dean served the spaghetti, he called Sam to taste the sauce to make sure it had enough salt and pepper. Sam tasted it and hummed his agreement.

“Don’t you think you made too much sauce? Are we eating the same thing tomorrow?” Sam eyed Dean suspiciously as though accusing Dean of being too lazy to cook the next day.

“You seem to be forgetting that there’s another human in the room.”

“Oh… Yeah. Sorry,” Sam uttered quietly before returning to sit on the couch.

Dean didn’t mean it in a malicious way. He just wanted to remind Sam that Castiel needed food and rest as much as the rest of them now. But he immediately felt guilty when he faced the hurt expression Castiel threw at him. The former angel looked at him as though he was being sarcastic and purposely made a point to remind Castiel how messed up he was. Dean wanted to correct himself, tell Castiel he didn’t mean it like that, maybe even apologise but Castiel turned away to direct his attention to Sam. He still held his soiled trench coat and suit in his hands. 

“Sam, where do I place these?”

“Oh, just put it in the laundry basket outside the bathroom. We’ll do the laundry tomorrow.”

“No, wait,” Dean said. “Here, wrap it in this plastic bag first before putting it in the basket. We’ll have to do the laundry separately tomorrow.” 

Castiel did as he was told. Then, Dean served dinner in three bowls. Sam turned off the TV and sat opposite Castiel at the table. Dean sat on the kitchen counter and focused on finishing his food.

“This is really good, Dean. Thank you,” Castiel uttered after swallowing his first bite.

Sam smiled while Dean just nodded but didn’t bother looking up.

“So, Cas… How do you still remember who you are?” Sam asked.

Dean immediately looked up at that because that was a good question. He didn’t know how he managed to look past it. And the dreadful feeling in his gut returned. What’s the magic trick now? Who miraculously returned Castiel’s memory the way he was miraculously rescued from Purgatory? The thing about miracles is that they don’t exist. So, you can damn well bet that anything that happens miraculously has an ulterior motive that will come back to bite you in the ass. 

“Yeah, Cas. How do you still remember?” Dean interrogated.

“Metatron.” Castiel answered with food in his mouth.

Hearing that name made Dean’s blood boil. 

_Why do they always trust the wrong people?_ Dean thought as his eyes swivelled from Sam to Castiel. 

Sam trusted Ruby and almost destroyed the world. Castiel trusted Metatron and completely destroyed Heaven. Dean had warned both of them. But they have somehow depended on other people more than Dean. He wasn’t as angry as he was hurt. He knows Sam felt guilty about it and Castiel had to feel awful too considering that he just lost his brothers and sisters. 

But Dean couldn’t help but wonder, _Why is it that I’m so easy to look past? Why doesn’t anyone come to me for help until it’s too late?_ And that thought kept nagging at the back of his head.

“What about him? He made a deal with you? Destroy heaven in return of your memory?” Dean pressed on.

“Dean,” Sam scolded.

Castiel swallowed his food with a bewildered, hurt look on his face.

“No. I fell first before the other angels. Metatron let me remember because he… he told me to find him in Heaven when I die. To tell him my story.”

“I knew it. That shady ass bitch would do anything for a story,” Dean huffed indignantly.

“How come you fell first, Cas? I thought he’d want to let you stay since you sort of… you know, helped him,” Sam asked cautiously. 

Let the record show that Sam Winchester always asks the right questions.

Castiel looked down at his bowl before answering solemnly, “My grace. He needed it to complete the spell. It was a spell, by the way. Not trials to shut the gates of Heaven.”

“Obviously,” Dean replied contemptuously. 

And that was the final straw. Castiel glanced at Dean, not indignantly but with a lost expression. He looked at Dean questioningly. 

_Do you want me here? Should I just be gone?_

Dean couldn’t read what played on Castiel’s mind but the intensity of the gaze was enough to make him understand that he might have been pushing it a little too far.

“Finish up your food, Cas. No wasting,” he said casually as though to cut off some of the tension. 

Castiel continued to stare at Dean for a beat longer than usual –which says something since Castiel always stared unnecessarily long- before picking up his fork again. Sam finished eating and washed his bowl before calling it a night. The nausea was back and he felt all wobbly again. Sam despised his state of health and he couldn't wait to get better. He didn't like troubling Dean and having his big brother take care of him all the time. He felt like he was eight years old again. Small, incompetent and scared. He was afraid he'd remain like this for the rest of his life. He wouldn't completely recover. Sam genuinely would rather die than live his whole life suffering like this. He's a hunter, he has got to be strong. There is no other way. Sometimes, he wondered if everything would have been better if he just completed the third trial. He imagined how peaceful the world would have been without all those black-eyed sons of bitches. How many lives he could have saved. How -for once in his life- he could have felt like a hero instead of a twisted abomination. The only thing that keeps him striving to get better is the knowledge that if he dies, he will inevitably kill a part of Dean too -if not all of him. And what good is a hero if he can't save his own family? 

“Okay guys, I’m gonna crash. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he pointedly looked at Castiel as he uttered the latter.

“Good night, Sam,” Castiel answered while he twirled his fork absently.

Dean wordlessly walked over to the sink while Castiel continued to twirl his fork. He no longer had the appetite to eat. He was hungry but he felt very uncomfortable. He felt like he didn’t belong. Not any more. Like the Winchesters don’t quite fancy his presence. Like he intruded their home. He hated the feeling. If he had to describe it, he’d say lonely. Hollow. At times like these, he really missed his wings. He could have vanished in a blink of an eye. Although out there in the dark, cold night, he would have still felt lonely, at least he wouldn’t feel unwanted. 

“Eat, Cas,” Dean said as he observed him from where he stood in front of the sink. 

Castiel forced himself to eat despite the uneasiness and upon finishing his portion of the meal, he walked over hesitantly to where Dean stood. He was about to ask Dean to move a little so that he could wash his bowl but Dean grabbed it from him and began washing it himself.

“I could do that, Dean. You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ll take too long. I’m done waiting.”

Again, Dean meant it casually. He was insinuating that he was jaded and wanted to go to bed as soon as possible and that he offered to wash the dishes because it was no big deal. However, to Castiel, that sounded like Dean figured Castiel wouldn’t do a good job at anything. And the worst part of it is that Castiel seemed to agree with that misconception. He truly felt worthless. And he understood why Dean would be angry at him. He was angry at himself too. A month had passed but Castiel hasn’t stopped wondering why he didn’t just die. He had nothing to live for and now, he was only trouble to Dean and Sam. He knew they wouldn’t chase him away, that their loyalty knows no bounds and that they will help him even if they don’t necessarily consider him family any more. But he had disappointed them in ways he can’t even begin to explain and they were better off without him. He no longer had anything to offer. He was just a baby in a trench coat as Dean put it a long time back. As Dean cleaned up a room for him and handed him a pillow and a blanket, Castiel can’t help but wish there was another place he could go. For the first time in a long time, he terribly missed Heaven.


	6. The Child Is Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm not a Christian and I've never read the Bible. This is just a figment of my imagination. So, forgive me if I'm wrong about something that's stated clearly in the Bible (like the angel's name or something) and please feel free to correct me.

Castiel was awake before the crack of dawn. He quietly unlocked the front door and stepped out to watch the sun rise. Heaven is different for everyone since it’s knitted entirely from peoples’ memories. But Heaven is also like wet clay. With the right tool; that is an active imagination, you can rebuild your Heaven. You can either find a way to share it with your deceased loved ones or alter certain components of your Heaven to make it a more splendid experience. Heaven was designed this way because if you led an unadventurous, lonely life back on Earth, then very soon you’ll run out of the greatest hits of your life to project. In this case, your Heaven will play on an endless loop or remain still at one specific memory that you like best. Most people are content with it but there are some extraordinary humans with wild imagination and the knack for solving puzzles. These humans rebuild a more beautiful Heaven for themselves. So for most humans, their Heavens have one sun that dawns and one moon to light the night –the way they remember it from their time on Earth.

However, there were 22 suns and 26 moons in the angels’ part of heaven. Rise and fall of each sun and moon were controlled by respective angels. The archangels supervised all the angels of sun and moon. Michael and Raphael rule the Suns and Gabriel rules the Moons. During day, Michael could make yellow chrysanthemums and sunflowers bloom from the ground he threaded upon. And during night, Gabriel could make purple and white lilies blossom with just the touch of his fingertips. Castiel always looked up to his brothers in awe especially because they were capable of such wonders. His brothers were beautiful and admirable. Under them, there was a huge network of Planetary Spirits, Messengers and Intelligences. Castiel never knew how they worked because he wasn’t an angel of the sun or moon. However, he did work side by side with Uriel, the ruling prince of Sun. Castiel have heard stories about Uriel’s duty of rising his Sun. And among all 22 suns, Castiel was able to point out which one of it was under Uriel’s care because he spent ample of time observing Uriel’s Sun up close. Castiel –being the curious one among the angels- had also asked Gabriel’s permission to touch one of the moons. 

Gabriel was more laid back than the other uptight angels and he used to say, “Go ahead, brother. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

When Gabriel disappeared, all the angels assumed he was dead and Ophaniel was crowned the prince of moon. Castiel didn’t dare ask Ophaniel for the privilege of watching the moon up close. After Uriel was killed by Anna, Rekhodiah took over his Sun. Then, Castiel wasn’t allowed to go near the Sun any more either because Rekhodiah was very strict in duty. 

However, Castiel was never too upset about it. He had so much more to discover. He had his Father’s greatest creation right next door. So, he observed humanity instead. He would go from one person’s Heaven to another, watching their most intimate moments. He witnessed their best days through their eyes and experienced their happiness. He travelled high and low, trying to blend in with humanity. And he discovered that his favourite paradise was the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man. This man didn’t live his best days in a loop. He had unchanging scenery. He spent all his time in Heaven just flying a kite in a peaceful park. And Castiel fell in love with that man’s innocent outlook on life. 

Castiel witnessed the dawn of men and unlike the rest of the angels who didn’t quite find them special, Castiel saw something wonderful in them. He saw innocence and simplicity. How a man’s Heaven could just be the first kiss he shared with the love of his life. How a woman kept replaying her daughter’s graduation. Of course that was until he walked among humans on Earth and also witnessed corruptions and atrocities. But then again, an event that was so insignificant in the grand scale of everything could seem so extraordinary to a human. These humans were like tiny pebbles thrown in a lake. They skip along the surface and get engulfed by the surrounding water after some time. They die. But yet the ripples they create spread out and affect the still water in the entire pond. They leave an impact despite being such simple creatures. Like the Winchesters. Who would have thought that two young boys could have saved the entire world? Who would have thought that if they attempt to shape the world, the world will agreeably shift with them? The most astounding part of it is that the world would never recognise the Winchesters, would never speak of them, would never know their sacrifices. Yet, they are among the most important of all creatures.

The most fascinating part of Heaven is the Garden. Joshua –one of the low-ranked angels- tended to the Garden. However, Castiel always believed that Joshua was among the wisest. He was a quiet angel that never boasted like the others. And he resided in the Garden for as long as Castiel could remember and that is awfully long. So, Castiel felt like Joshua knew a lot more than he let on. Joshua claimed that the Garden looked different to everyone. They were allowed to perceive the Garden the way they wish to perceive it. Castiel always saw it as the Garden of Eden and it was as beautiful as all of other God’s creations. But he often wondered what the Garden looked like to the others. Joshua was the only angel who could see it from all perspectives. He explained that most times, he saw it as the Throne Room of God. However, he never took the time to describe what it looked like to Castiel. 

Now, all of that beauty would be eradicated. Although the part of Heaven that humans resided will remain the same, the angels’ Heaven would have been totalled. There would no longer be the rise and fall of the Suns and the Moons since all the angels have fallen. The Garden of Eden would be ruined with no one to tend to it. Joshua –the only angel with the gift of hearing God- would have fell too. There is only Metatron above and he probably neglected the angels’ paradise and let it rot while he visited humans’ paradises. He was fond of stories and what better place to witness the unravelling of great life stories than observing humans? Castiel’s mind was wholly occupied in reminiscences of the past that he barely kept track of time. You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. But now that all else has perished but he remained, where is he supposed to go?


	7. Coming Apart At The Hinges

Dean woke up with a start. It wasn’t anything unusual. He had nightmares again but nothing more than he dealt with on almost a daily basis. The issue was he didn’t drink before going to sleep the previous night. So, his mind was active despite the lethargy and was painting graphic violence all night. That’s why he gets himself drunk on most nights. Not like he is even capable of getting intoxicated any more. His body has extremely high tolerance for alcohol now. But a few rounds of whiskey would have helped ease him into sleep instead of falling head-first into another, more terrifying version of Purgatory his mind has created. In this particular nightmare, Sam was stuck in Purgatory with him too so that made everything worse. That made every kill more purposeful and every close call more frightening. However, he doesn't let nightmares get the best of him any more because the kind of lives they live is more blood-curdling than he can imagine. He got up, stretched his body and went to take a shower. It was still quite early and he’d rather cook breakfast before waking Sam up. And he figured he should let Castiel sleep in too. After taking a shower, Dean was about to shave his stubbles when he remembered that Castiel needed to shave too. And he knows for a fact that the former angel had never had the necessity to groom himself so he wouldn’t possibly know how to shave properly. So, Dean decided to wait till Castiel woke up so he could demonstrate a lesson on ‘Shaving 101’.

But first things first, he had to make sure Castiel was still around. So, he walked quietly down the corridor as to not wake Sam up and was about to knock on Castiel’s door but it was already open. He stared past it as he felt a pang of disappointment in his chest that he couldn't push away as skilfully as before. Castiel was not in the room. He cursed inwardly because he should have known. All these years and not once has Castiel stayed when Dean expected him to or even when he needed him to. Why would he stay now? He was starving, he needed a place to eat and rest so he reached out to Dean. Now, he must have been back on the road on another one of his holy missions that pretty much always failed. Dean just strode hurriedly from one end of the bunker to another, trying to locate Castiel. He wished Castiel was watching TV since he was always fond of the History and Discovery Channels. But he was nowhere to be found. Disappointment turned to resentment. 

Dean’s just so sick of being abandoned. Nobody needs him as much as he needs them and they make it a point to shove it on his face. All his life, he has always been a second choice. A back up plan. John was never home and he depended on Dean to watch out for his little brother. But it often felt like he didn’t give two shits about Dean. That much was made clear when Dean almost died after getting electrocuted while battling a Rawhead that one time. Sam called his father day and night, leaving more voice messages than he could count but John never bothered to return any of those calls or come and visit Dean in the hospital. Sometimes, Dean can't help but wonder if John sold his soul not because he loved Dean but because he knew deep down that his elder son was more capable of keeping Sam safe. It was obvious to John at the time that Sam was a part of Azazel's big scheme and if there's one person that could save him, that would be Dean. So, maybe, _just maybe_ , Dean's father died for him because he'd rather leave the responsibility and the burden of killing Sam -if he was beyond saving- to Dean. John and Sam may have constantly been at each others’ throats but Dean knows that John loved Sam immensely. Because they were so alike in so many ways. Passion, anger, determination, boldness, intelligence. But Dean was the obedient attack dog only required to protect the other. Whenever John fought with Sam, he took it out on Dean. He either scolded him for something silly or acted in a passive aggressive manner towards Dean. He tore Dean a new one for every small mistake he made such as forgetting to clean the guns. He never stayed more than two days with the boys at a time and most days, he left without a fair warning because he knew Dean could handle it. That Dean would make excuses for his absence and convince himself that John did the best he could. And he took care of Sam not because his father told him to but because Sam was all he had. Dean was more of a parent to Sam than John had ever been.

Then, it was Sam’s turn to abandon him. Being passionate and stubborn like his father, he wanted to live his life the way he wanted. Which was all well and good but he never thought to turn around and see who he left behind. He was so caught up in trying to escape from the clutches of his father, he didn’t realise that he basically pushed away the only person who had been a constant presence in his life. When Sam ran away on Dean's watch and stayed by himself for two weeks in Flagstaff , he was thrilled to taste a little freedom. However, when John and Dean had finally found him, he didn’t notice the blackening bruise on Dean’s left cheek or the dark circles from lack of sleep. If he did notice, he never said a word about it. And when Sam told his dad he finally had had enough and insisted on going to Stanford, he walked out of that door without second thoughts. Yes, John was the one to shut the door on him but Sam didn’t quite mind it either. Dean knew that Sam was a kid and didn’t see it as abandoning Dean but it still stung. And let's not even get started about Ruby. Dean knows the weight of the guilt that Sam carries around and how terribly sorry he is about everything but it's still difficult to look past it because his brother -all he has ever lived and died for- chose _a demon_ over Dean. But then again, he consoles himself by saying that Sam did what he did because he had good intentions. He wanted to save the world. He needed to believe that he was capable of healing the world with his wicked powers than demolishing it.

Nowadays, it’s Castiel turn to come and go as he pleased. The difference is that John and Sam were family to Dean by blood. And he knew that one day or another, they’d inevitably find a way back to him. He knew with certainty that despite some bad choices here and there, Sam truly cared about Dean more than anything in this world. But with Castiel –although he is as close to family as it gets- there is always the possibility that he’d be gone forever. And that hurts in a lot more ways than Dean will ever admit. He was done giving excuses for people. He was done convincing himself that they didn’t mean to leave him behind time and time again. So, he’s not going to tolerate Castiel’s absence. He lets himself get furious because he deserves to. Because that’s the only defence mechanism he has left. And you know what, Dean's going to put an end to this for once and for all. Castiel would have had to walk to get away this time. So, Dean could drive down the road and probably still stop him in time. He’s going to track Castiel down and give him a piece of his mind. He’s going to give Castiel an ultimatum. He either stays with Dean permanently or he leaves and never returns again. And God forbid he picks the latter.


	8. Bleed the Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains references to self harm although not in detail. I hear that some people get triggers to cut so if you think you might feel the urge, just skip this chapter, alright?

Having made up his mind, Dean grabbed the car keys and stomped towards the door. He yanked the door open and stepped out. 

_Oh_.

“Jesus! What the hell are you doing out here?”

Castiel didn’t turn around from where he was seated, knees touching the ground and body facing the sun. He looked like he may have been… praying. 

“I have warned you before, Dean. Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“What are you doing, Cas?”

With that, Castiel stood up from the pavement and turned around. 

“Observing.”

He walked towards Dean in a slow pace but didn’t meet his gaze.

“Observing what?”

“The Sun.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well… I thought you were gone.”

Castiel walked past the hunter to enter the bunker before mumbling, “Why? Would you rather have me gone?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Dean couldn’t make out what Castiel said and he didn’t force him to repeat it because he was too damn relieved to know that Castiel didn’t plan to run off after all.

He walked back in and shut the door. He walked to his bedroom and called out to Cas. 

“Cas, come in here.” Dean handed some washed clothes. “Go take a shower. You’re gonna need to shave.”

“Why do I need to shave?”

“Because you look like a hobo, dude.”

Castiel just tilted his head confusedly.

“Homeless man, Cas.”

The abrupt change in Castiel’s face surprised Dean. Castiel, as an angel, had a very narrow emotional spectrum. His expressions were generic if not vacant altogether. But he now seemed to be able to project so much on his face. Maybe because he felt more than he used to and didn’t know how to hide it. Dean was taken aback by the ability to read Castiel all of a sudden. He looked extremely upset like he was seconds away from bursting into tears or exploding into rage. 

“Cas?” Dean asked very cautiously.

“I _am_ homeless, Dean.”

Dean wanted to tell him otherwise. He wanted to assure him that as long as he and Sam are around, Castiel would always have a home. However, before he could form the right words, Castiel stormed out of the room and locked himself in the bathroom. Dean could have called out, could have let him know still. But being emotionally constipated, he sort of gave up and swallowed his words. 

When Castiel walked out of shower, his hair still dripping wet, Dean stopped him before he could exit the bathroom and announced, “Time to shave, Cas.”

“I am not certain on…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Watch me,” Dean said as he grabbed two razors and a bottle of shaving cream. 

He then looked intently at Castiel, inspecting his beard. Castiel just patiently waited although he found it a little more difficult than usual to stand still. As an angel, he was capable of standing in one place for hours or days or even months because that’s what angels do. They watch and guard. They learn and walk among those on earth to discover humanity. To try and understand why their Father would ask them to love these beings more than anything. But now that he’s no longer an angel, he realises that he can’t be remotely as patient and he definitely despises waiting. 

“You need to trim with electric clippers first, Cas.” 

Dean pulled out a small device from the drawer that Castiel had never laid eyes on before and didn’t know how to operate. Dean plugged it to the power source and turned it on. The device vibrated in his hand and Castiel took a step back.

“Dean…” he said looking a little scared.

“It’s nothing, Cas. You just use this part right here--,” Dean pointed at the jagged end “—hold it at this angle and use long strokes like this.”

Dean didn’t quite let the trimmer touch his face because he had more of a 5 o’clock shadow than a full beard. He just demonstrated the way to hold it and how to trim with smooth strokes from his chin up to his cheeks without using it on his skin. 

“You asked me to watch you, Dean but you are not doing it.”

“I don’t need to use the trimmer. I just want you to get the idea is all.”

“I do not wish to use it then. Can I not shave?”

Dean sighed. “Does it itch?”

“What?”

“Your beard, does it get itchy?”

“Yes. Very much so, I’m afraid.”

“Then I'm afraid you have to shave.”

Castiel just continued staring at the electric clippers in full force. He could have set it on fire with that intensity if he still had his angel mojo.

“It doesn’t hurt, Cas. Come on,” Dean passed the device.

Castiel took a deep breath and brought it closer to his face but removed it before it made contact with his face. 

“Go on,” Dean urged him.

Castiel tried again and stopped. 

“Can you just do it for me?” he asked Dean because he doesn’t trust himself with this vibrating tool.

Dean pondered upon this for a few seconds but he didn’t feel very comfortable to do it for Castiel because a) personal space, b) he has never shaved for someone else before except Sam whenever he’s physically incapable of it due to some injuries and c) Castiel has to learn how to shave.

“No, Cas. You gotta learn how to do this at some point.”

Castiel turned to look at himself in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. He saw fear and hesitance. He used to be a warrior of Heaven who walked around with an angel blade in hand and certainty in his gait. Looking at his reflection, he felt something twist in his gut and he hated it. He held the trimmer firmly in place and decided to go for it. He trimmed messily with short, uneven strokes but Dean figured that he’ll have to use a traditional razor anyway, so it was okay. But Dean sensed an underlying irritation in the way Castiel handled the trimmer. He sensed frustration when Castiel's hand moved faster and faster with every stroke. More and more reckless. 

“Cas, slow down a bit. Long strokes. And slow down, we got time.”

Castiel glanced at Dean’s reflection in the mirror and willed himself to gradual, steady movement of his hand. Once he was done, Dean held up a smaller tool than the earlier and it wasn’t operated with electricity or battery. It didn’t vibrate. 

“Now, watch me,” Dean said as he tilted his face to the side and applied shaving cream with a brush. 

“Use that cloth over there and wet your face with warm water first, Cas. Then you do this. Make sure you spread the lather, alright? You gotta completely cover it like this.” 

Dean faced Cas and turns his head from one side to the other so that Castiel can see. It felt weird to do this under Castiel’s scrutiny. Dean felt like his privacy is violated because bathroom is a man’s intimate space. And shaving shouldn’t be a public concern. He’s sort of used to having Sam do whatever he needs to do in the sink next to him. Like he used to share the bathroom and let Sam brush his teeth while Dean shaves. But that’s not weird because a) he’s used to Sam and he spends 24/7 with that guy b) Sam doesn’t look at him with such attention fixed to his every movement and c) they stopped sharing bathroom once they moved to the Winchester lair because they each have a separate room.

“Okay?” Dean asked to distract Castiel from his super intense stare.

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a nod.

“You start with one side of your face, Cas--” Dean shaved a straight line downwards “—and work steadily towards the other side. Do little by little, okay? So you don’t miss a patch. Like this. Light stroke, downwards. Pull your skin tight like this and…”

Dean removed his stubble one small section at a time.

“Don’t forget to rinse it.”

“Why?” Castiel tilts his head in confusion.

“To keep it from clogging, of course. So shave a little and rinse. Then repeat.”

Once Dean finished shaving, he rinsed his face with water.

“Wash your face, then… then, do this.” Dean couldn’t find the right words to describe it as he ran his fingers over his face.

“Touch my face?” Castiel asked with a curious tone.

“Yeah… Yeah, touch your face. See if you missed any spot. Like here, see?” Dean asked pointing near his mouth. 

He applied shaving cream again and gently passed the blade over the area before rinsing his face again. 

“That’s it. Then, you use this gel right here. Aftershave. So that your skin doesn’t get dry and itchy again. Okay. That’s all, Cas. Your turn.”

Dean grabbed a towel to wipe his face and turned around to leave. 

“Wait. Dean. Where are you going?”

“You don’t need me here any more. Just do it the same way I did.”

Dean felt awkward to stand there and watch Castiel shave. He knows he probably should, just so that Castiel doesn’t get too nervous but he really feels uncomfortable. Castiel may not know much about social behaviours and the boundaries of norm but Dean does and he doesn’t want to stay in that confined space with Castiel a minute longer than necessary.

“Stay, Dean. I might not do this right.”

“Of course you will. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” He continues as he sees Castiel fidget a little. “You handle angel blades with such tact. This is only one small blade, Cas.”

The swift transition in Castiel’s face made Dean feel guilty. Because he knew what it seemed like to Castiel. Like Dean challenged him to do this. Castiel suddenly looked more than determined to not receive any more favours. He picked up his razor gingerly and inspected it for a moment before turning to glance at Dean.

“You may leave, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

Dean immediately felt bad and wondered if he should stay. But Castiel was staring at him, as if prompting him to leave and he could seriously use some air right now. The bathroom suddenly felt suffocating. So, Dean left.

“Cas, call me if you need something,” Dean called out at the last minute.

Castiel locked the door and examined the razor closely. This one would make closer contact to his skin than the previous trimmer. It unsettled him to think about it but he peeked at the mirror and hated what he saw. He hated how afraid and small he seemed. He took a deep breath and rubbed the shaving cream on his face. After four attempts, he finally steeled himself and shaved one smooth line on his face. He was suddenly reminded of the cold press of Ion’s sharp angel blade that time in Biggerson’s Restaurant that ended with bloodshed. He recalled the knot in his stomach when he heard the waitress pleading him to stop. The panic that surfaced when he knew his long race had come to an end. And now all he feels is anger. He fumes as he stands there, watching his face. Resentment emerged again and he hears Dean’s words echoing in his head.

_Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?_

Well, he could slit his throat. He could die. However, at the moment, Castiel is slightly thrilled at the prospect. He could just end everything, all his misery and guilt right here. Being human has given him the privilege to die. He won’t be resurrected this time, he’s sure of that. Because there are no angels to revive him and if God brought him to life before, He sure wouldn’t do so now. Not after Castiel had wrecked everything he ever set out to do. God probably regretted resurrecting Castiel because he broke more than he can fix. He’d probably end up in hell for the sin of wiping out the entire population of angels but he doesn’t see how that’s a bad thing. Castiel believes he deserves to be tormented. He deserves to die.

With that, he starts pressing the razor to his cheek with enough pressure to break the skin and pulls the razor downward until he has a bleeding cut. 

_Rinse and repeat._

Castiel repeatedly drags the blade against his skin until one side of his face was covered with cuts and he bled profusely. He liked the pain. He liked the thrill of feeling something stronger than misery. Stinging pain consumed his every thought so he could stop feeling guilty for one minute and focus on the physical agony. Sure hurts less than his conscience. He then slowly brought the razor to his throat when he heard a light knock outside.

“How’s it going, Cas?”

Dean. **Dean**. Castiel’s thoughts were diverted back to reality and consequently, to the voice that’s calling out to him. If Castiel proceeds with this now, he would bleed and die on this bathroom floor before Dean figures out that he’s taking too long. It’s easy to do. Very easy for Castiel now that his self hatred had taken the wheel and pushed his fear behind. However, if he goes through with it, he will hurt Dean in the process. Possibly break the little bit of sanity the man is holding on to. Because maybe Dean doesn’t care for Castiel any more. Maybe Dean is angry at Castiel. But part of being a righteous man has a lot to do with his inclination to take responsibility for everyone. Dean will carry this guilt in his heart. He would genuinely believe that _he_ screwed up somewhere along the line. That he didn’t reach out to Castiel. That he inevitably is the reason why his friend is lying on his bathroom floor, drenched in his own blood with no light in his eyes. And Castiel realises that he can’t proceed with his impulse any more. Dean is important to him. He has been the reason, the purpose behind everything Castiel did ever since he raised him from perdition. Castiel has already broken Sam and Dean in more ways that he’d like to admit and he didn’t need to add more damage to that list. He couldn’t do that to Dean. Not after everything the hunter has done for him. He couldn’t be selfish. So, he set the razor down and held onto the corner of his sink with his trembling hands, trying to will down the sudden impulse to be reckless. The urge to hurt.

“Cas?” 

He inhales deeply to stop his voice from breaking before answering, “Give me a minute, Dean.” 

“Yeah. Take your time, man. Just making sure you’re alright in there.”

Castiel doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry at Dean’s sense of timing. He cries instead. Once he had calmed down enough to stop his hand from trembling, he slowly picked up the razor and shaved the other side cleanly with no bruises. He rinsed his face and looked in the mirror. His left cheek was clean and smooth but his right side of the face looked quite damaged. The bleeding wouldn’t stop and there was already blood all over the sink. Castiel quickly washed the floor and sink with water and grabbed a towel to apply pressure to the cuts. He then slowly unbolted the door and sat at the edge of Dean’s bed as he figured out a way to explain this. Accident. He’ll tell Dean it was an accident. As though Dean could read his mind, he walked into the room and looked at Castiel expectantly. 

“So… ? How was it?”

When Castiel looked up with the towel still pressed against his face, Dean moved in closer. 

“Oh shit, did you cut yourself? Let me see, Cas.”

He kneeled before Castiel and pried the towel off his face. 

“What the…? Cas, how the hell did that happen?”

He glanced at the white towel that was covered in blood and gasped.

“Jesus, Cas! That’s a lot of blood. How the hell did you…? Never mind. We need to patch you up.”

Dean stood abruptly and rummaged through his drawers to pull out a kit. Inside, he had cotton, antiseptics, dental floss, big needles and some alcohol swabs. 

“Here, look here,” Dean tugs Castiel face a little to the side so he could begin working on the wounds.

“Why didn’t you call me, Cas? This is gonna leave scars, man.”

“It was an accident, Dean. My hand shook too much.”

“You should have called me then, dude. What the hell?”

“I have to learn at some point.”

Dean just glared at Castiel as he said with irritation evident in his voice, “You need to learn to come to me for help. If you really couldn’t do it, you should have just called me. Seriously Cas, when will you ever learn that you don’t always have to do shit by yourself? That’s how you go around, messing things up. You’re such a child, you know that?”

“I will try, Dean. Give me some time.”

Dean retreats his hand that held the cotton ball dipped with antiseptic to confusedly look at Cas.

“What?”

“I will try to not mess things up any more, as you put it, Dean. I will try to learn to not always depend solely on my judgement as I am often wrong.”

“You run things by me first, okay? Or Sam.”

Castiel just nods ruefully as Dean continues to dab him with antiseptic. Castiel tried to remain still but it really hurt when Dean prodded his wounds so he hissed and pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry. This will sting a little, Cas. But I gotta do this fast. You’re bleeding a lot.”

Tears well in Castiel’s eyes. Dean handles him more carefully as to not hurt him. 

“Just a little while more, Cas. Hold on.”

It wasn’t pain that made Castiel cry. It was the compassion that he was offered. The compassion he didn’t think he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologise for any mistakes or false assumptions I've made about a) shaving b) self injury.


	9. The Blind Leading The Blind

Sam was awakened by the rumbling of his stomach. He slept for a long time and his body was in need of fuel. He felt hungry and tired –the kind of weariness that comes from oversleeping. He got up and stretched his long limbs ungracefully and he could feel the bone-deep ache and dizziness. He was still sore everywhere and sometimes, he wonders if he would continue feeling like that for the rest of his life. Unhealthy, out of breath, dizzy. He shoved the thought aside because it’s too early to wallow in self pity and unceremoniously bumped into a table before carrying his huge body to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Shower has got to wait because he’s too damn hungry to care. 

He walked to the kitchen in hopes of smelling the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee and probably some pancakes. He could eat a huge stack of pancakes right now. But to his disappointment, he found nothing on the kitchen counter and no one was around either. Of all days to sleep in, of course Dean picks the one day that Sam is in need of glorious food. He sauntered to Dean’s bedroom, fully intending to scare him awake when he saw Dean kneeling before Castiel.

_What the hell?_

There was a bundled towel that looked drenched in blood on the floor next to Dean and Sam walked in hurriedly.

“Dean, what happened?”

“Cas had an accident while shaving.”

Sam walked over to Dean’s side to take a look at whatever that Dean was doing. He hissed when he saw the deep cut Dean was cleaning and felt the hair on his hand stand at the thought of the pain. But Castiel seemed to be holding himself together, except for the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Oh my… You okay Cas?”

“I am fine, Sam. It was a minor accident. Don’t worry.”

“How did you…?” Sam stopped. His eyes suddenly widened in what looked like terror and he shut his mouth abruptly. 

“Pass me that plaster,” Dean ordered.

Sam quickly turned around and had to hold onto the bedside table for a second as he felt the room spin a little. He turned too fast. Vertigo. 

“Sam?” Dean called out.

“Here,” Sam put the plaster in Dean’s open palm and sat down next to Castiel before he fainted. 

From this position, he could examine Castiel’s face. And this confirmed his suspicion. Sam felt more nauseous than before and he has a feeling that it has less to do with his current state of health and more to do with the realisation of what happened. He kept his mouth shut, afraid to say another word as though he might just tip Castiel off the cliff he’s hanging and this time, Dean might fall off with him. 

After Dean had wrapped up Castiel’s right cheek with enough cotton that he looked like he just had a facial surgery, Dean turned to Sam. 

He sighed deeply before asking, “How you feelin’ today, Sasquatch?”

Sam was so close to answering _‘Same old.’_ but stopped himself because Dean has a lot on his plate today. He doesn’t even know it yet or maybe he already guessed it but either way, Dean already has one poor bastard to take care today and Sam doesn’t need to add to the list. 

“Better.”

Dean eyed him disbelievingly so Sam had to say something else to divert Dean from his head to toe health scan. 

“I’m starving though.”

“Yeah, late breakfast today. Wanna eat outside?”

“I want pancakes,” Sam said.

Dean laughed a little because he would have considered it a very child-like request, only that it came from a gargantuan man. No matter how big and wise Sam has become, he always has traces of the 6 year old Sammy that would beg Dean to play hide and seek. Maybe it’s just Dean but Sam still has a little of… –he wouldn’t call it innocence because that’s long gone but he doesn’t know how else to put it- a little off his Sammy when times were less complicated and sharing his cereal seemed like the ultimate sacrifice.

“Cas? Pancakes? Sound good to you?” Dean asked.

Castiel just nodded absently.

“Okay then. Pancakes it is. We’ll do the laundry on the way home. And buy some stuff for Cas.”

When it was time to go, Dean climbed in the driver’s seat and started the car. Sam had the front door open and was about to get in when he glanced at Castiel. He watched Castiel intently as he walked towards the car distractedly. Castiel opened the back seat door but Sam stopped him before he entered. 

“Why don’t you ride shotgun today?”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he almost looked a little excited like a kid that got offered cotton candy but unfortunately had to resist.

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

“No, Cas. I insist. Sit in front. It’ll do me some good to lie behind. Feeling a lil… you know, dizzy.”

With that, Castiel smiled so wide that Sam couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said as he climbed in. 

Dean glanced at his brother from his rear view mirror as though checking for any signs of distress or hidden anger. Sam just smiled reassuringly. Dean understood that Sam was just trying to be nice to Castiel. 

When they reached the restaurant, Sam order Pecan Pancakes with hot tropical syrup and Dean ordered Bacon Pancakes with extra strips of bacon and egg. Castiel just stared at the menu.

The waitress waited in silence for a while before asking, “And you, sir?”

Castiel seemed a little anxious and he looked at Dean who was seated opposite of him.

“I don’t know what to order, Dean. I have never ate pancakes.”

The waitress laughed a little, disbelievingly. 

“You’ve never ate pancakes?” she asked Castiel.

“No. I did not have the necessity to fuel my body with food before. Now, I just eat whatever people offer me. I have learnt not to be choosy,” he answered seriously.

The waitress looked perplexed and her eyes swivelled from Sam to Dean, expecting them to say something.

Sam fake laughed to diffuse the awkwardness and retorted, “He’s always cracking jokes like that. Don’t mind him.”

The waitress relaxed visibly while Dean just eyed Sam like _'Seriously, that’s the best you can come up with?'_ and Sam responded with a glare that said _'Why don’t you cover up next time?'_

“You want something sweet or savoury, Cas?” Dean asked.

“If it is possible, I would like to have something sweet.”

“Do you want me to suggest something?”

“Yes, please.”

“Try the blueberry pancakes with whipped butter and blueberry compote. You can’t go wrong with that.”

Castiel smiled and turned to the waitress, “I will have whatever Dean just suggested, please.”

“Okay. Blueberry pancakes then.”

“And can I have coffee? Lots of coffee. I have acquired a taste for it,” he smiled again.

“Sure. Should I just bring the pot? You can serve it yourself among the three of you.”

Castiel looked to Dean for an answer so the waitress turned towards him too.

“Yes. A pot and three cups.”

When the waitress turned to leave, Castiel held her wrist lightly and uttered, “Thank you.”

The waitress felt a little flattered by the gratitude but the situation was still awkward so she gave him an odd smile before scrambling away. Dean and Sam were busy listing down all the things they need to get for Castiel. His own clothes and shoes and socks and stuffs. When the pancakes were served, Dean waited expectantly for Castiel to try his first bite of pancake.

“So… how is it?”

Castiel chewed with his eyes closed despite the stinging pain from the cuts and said, “The blueberries are real.”

Dean snorted at that and retorted, "No shit, Sherlock.”

“I think he meant it’s not just blueberry flavoured pancakes, it has real blueberries,” Sam helpfully provided.

Dean urged, “Try it with the syrup, Cas.”

Castiel poured a little syrup at the side cautiously and took another bite. He hummed his approval.

“This tastes really good, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean wore the sort of smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. He took a bite of his own bacon pancake before laughing. Castiel kept his focus entirely on his food and coffee so Dean dared to make a joke quietly. 

“Tastes like… heaven?”

He said it so softly that only Sam who had been paying attention heard and Sam quickly dropped his utensils to throw a bitch face at Dean.

“Dean!” 

He fully intended to reprimand Dean but before he could, Dean cleared his throat and said, “Too soon?”

“Yeah. How ‘bout never?” Sam scolded.

Castiel was clueless and asked, “What are you talking about?”

Good thing he is no longer a celestial being with sharp hearing and huge wings because he would have disappeared right about this second if he heard what Dean said. He’s still too sore about everything.

“Nothing. Wanna try mine?” Dean pushed his plate towards Castiel, offering him his pancake.

Castiel took a bite of it and made a mental note about his acquired taste for pancakes now. Sam also offered a bite from his plate and Castiel began talking about the simple delights of being human and how pancakes are his most favourite food now. For the first time in a long time, all three of them felt content to be with each other’s company.

*****  
In the laundry shop, Sam taught Castiel how to operate the washing machine while Dean sorted through their clothes, making sure there was absolutely nothing in their pockets. Castiel helped Sam to pick up the clothes and stuff them in the machine as Sam sat down for a while, feeling worn out already. This must be how it felt to be a 65 year old man. No, make it 70. It’s next to impossible for the Winchesters to live that long but Sam sure does experience the weariness of age. He turned around to locate Castiel when he saw Castiel approaching a lady with a sense of urgency.

“Sister? Ariel, do you remember me? I’m Castiel.”

The lady just stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights when the younger lady standing next to her replied, “I’m sorry. I think you got the wrong person.”

 _‘Oh no. Shit!’_ Sam thinks before he got up and strolled unsteadily towards them. 

Dean had also noticed the potential problem and walked over to Castiel’s side.

“Sorry, you look a lot like a friend. He just took you for someone else,” Sam covered up.

Castiel was extremely upset so Dean pulled him away.

“What you doing, Cas? Who is she? An angel?” He whispered harshly.

Castiel couldn’t tear his eyes away from the lady. 

“Cas, look here. She doesn’t remember you. She doesn’t remember anything, man. Hell, none of the angels do. Except you.”

“I know,” Castiel nodded solemnly as he watched her walk out of the shop. “I know,” he reiterated more to himself than to anyone else.

“It’s best that she doesn’t remember,” Castiel uttered softly.

Sam squeezed Castiel’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Yeah. Be grateful none of them do. Or she would have ganked you right here, right now,” Dean said absent-mindedly.

Castiel’s eyes snapped from the ground to Dean in a fraction of a second and he threw a dagger stare.

“Do you _really_ think that’s what I’m worried about? The angels killing me?” He raised his voice with every word.

“Ssshh… Keep it down, Cas,” Sam said as he offered a fake smile at the guy at the counter.

“I am relieved she doesn’t remember anything because the knowledge of what was and what has become of everything will hurt immensely, Dean. I cannot care less about the consequences I have to bear because I deserve it,” Castiel spat out and stormed off the shop towards the car.

“What the hell, dude?” Sam asked as he felt himself getting intensely annoyed.

“What?” Dean asked petulantly. “I was just saying—”

Sam interjected, “Maybe you shouldn’t say anything any more. Not everyone can stand having you jab and prod at unhealed wounds, Dean.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Castiel isn’t me. You can’t keep reminding him of his mistakes and expect him to stay. You keep going at him like that and you’ll lose him, that’s all I’m saying.”

Sam walked outside and guided Cas to sit in the car, letting Dean wait alone for the laundry. Dean was beginning to feel furious at that statement. Sam just insinuated that Dean keeps reminding him of his mistakes and Sam still puts up with it. Well, yes, Dean sometimes reminds him of Ruby or the times he walked around with no soul because those things still hurt and Dean isn’t completely over it. He speaks of it **not** because he wants Sam to feel guilty -he sure as hell knows how sorry Sam is. He speaks of it because he needs an outlet to let out the building steam. He points it out to Sam because he is still afraid that someday, Sam might make the same mistake of not trusting Dean and he can’t have that. 

_‘God, can’t I even be upset once in a while without being afraid of losing everyone?’_ Dean wondered. 

*****  
In the shopping mall, Dean let Sam bring Castiel around to look at clothes. He was still silently brooding over Sam’s outburst and he figured it’s best to shut up. Castiel stood at the aisle of coats and scanned them. He obviously is very fond of his trench coat. Maybe he feels comfortable and safe when he looks more like Jimmy Novak. Sam told him he needs to sit for a while to catch his breath and walked over to where Dean was seated. Dean stubbornly looked away.

“Dean, do you notice something wrong?” Sam asked as though nothing happened.

Dean didn’t answer at first because he thought Sam was mocking his silence but something in the tone of his voice indicated that Sam was asking about something entirely different. There’s a sense of urgency in his voice. A need to keep his voice down so no one but Dean can hear him.

“Like what?” 

“Cas. His shaving accident is quite focused in one region, don’t you think?”

Dean returned Sam’s gaze.

“Like look at it, man. He only has cuts on one side. Everywhere else, he shaved just fine,” Sam added.

“Maybe he was nervous at first but got a hang of it.”

“Seriously, dude? Do those cuts look normal to you? I mean, I cut myself the first time I shaved too but it wasn’t as deep. Or as many.”

Dean isn’t going to lie, he thought about it the minute he saw it. The cuts look too… deliberate. But he didn’t want to mention it. If you don’t speak about it, the issue magically disappears. That’s Dean Winchester’s logic. He may be in a denial but he knows deep down that Sam’s right.

“What are you implying?”

“Maybe… maybe Cas did it on purpose?”

Dean remained silent at that because he refused to entertain the idea but he knows damn well that it isn’t an assumption. It’s a fair observation. It’s a fact staring him in the face.

“The more important question is, would this be the last time or is Cas… I don’t know. Suicidal maybe?” Sam asked cautiously.

“He can’t be a part of Team Free Will if he’s not fucked up. Fits the profile.”

“You don’t seem all that surprised. Which means you know something I don’t,” Sam eyed his brother suspiciously.

Dean just kept his mouth shut. He knows Castiel is suicidal. He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“What, Dean? Tell me,” Sam urged.

“After escaping from Purgatory, Cas refused to go to heaven, remember? I asked him why and he said if he sees the devastation he caused, he’s afraid he might kill himself. And now, after this shit…”

“And you’re only telling me this _now_?”

“Why? Could you have done something about it if I told you?” Dean asked exasperatedly.

“No… but you could have--”

“Who are you kidding? You’re not exactly the person to preach here, are you Sam? As far as I recall, you were close to giving up yourself.”

Sam shut his mouth at that. Because he knows what he almost did. In fact, in the dead of the night, he still wishes sometimes that he went through with the plan because he would have at least left behind a safer world for everyone. A better place for Dean. But he also knows that Dean isn’t the poster child for sanity because there have been numerous occasions when Dean admitted to having impulses to put a gun to his head and end it. But the difference is that Sam and Dean live for each other. They can’t bear to abandon the other person and that’s the relentless driving force to propel them forward. To hang on another day. With Castiel, he doesn’t have much to hang on to. He has lost his family, his home, his purpose, everything. Sam can only hope that Castiel will hold on for the Winchesters.

The boys watched Castiel run his fingers over a trench coat.

“We’re all messed up, huh?”

“Very much so.”


	10. Don't Try To Forget Your Past. It Remembers You.

The Winchesters stayed inside for months, holed up in the bunker. But enough is enough. There is a sudden spike of unusual activities and the reason behind it is staring them in the face. They let Abaddon out. This one’s on the Winchesters. Dean may have proved his worth as more than just brawn by carving a Devil’s trap in a bullet and shooting her but he may have been too confident and irrational when he decided to use Abaddon for the final trial. But it isn’t completely against their nature. Of course of all demons, the Winchesters will try their hand at curing one of the ancient, most powerful demon that was hand-picked by Lucifer himself. They didn’t have a choice because Crowley kept all of his hell bitches tucked safely away from the Winchesters but they could have been more careful. Now that she’s out and free, she has taken over Crowley’s empire. Maybe Crowley got weaker once he was halfway cured or maybe it was no competition at all but he got overthrown. Hell has a new Queen and she wants to make sure every realm hears about the regime change. She is a killing machine who doesn’t kill for benefits like Crowley but rather for her thirst of blood. No compromise, no trickery. She just wants mass destruction to relive her glory days. And Dean will lose his sanity if he goes on another day without doing something about it.

So he decided it’s high time for a hunt. He begins to seek out electrical storms and bizarre deaths. But he does so secretly because he knows that Sam will not let him go out on a hunt alone. There’s no way Dean is allowing Sam to leave the confines of the bunker because Sam is still healing. He can barely stand for 20 minutes without feeling like he’s about to faint. There is absolutely no freaking way that Sam tags along when he can’t shoot straight. However, Sam finds out about it anyway because Dean has been borrowing his laptop a lot recently and Sam has been around Dean enough to know that he’s not ashamed of watching porn. If Dean had been surfing the net for Busty Asian Beauties, he wouldn’t have taken the trouble to delete his browsing history. Considering how careful Dean is about not leaving any traces of his internet activities and his general restlessness, Sam deduced that Dean itched for a hunt. He understands the impulse. He watches the news too. Sam hears about the recent odd murders and he is fully aware of how strong Abaddon is. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise that Abaddon has taken over the throne. He just wishes he didn’t feel so weak and useless. He wants to be out there, fighting side by side with his brother. Not stuck at home, eating soup and sleeping all day. And if Dean is preparing for a hunt, then it’s time Sam packs him duffel bag and reloads his arsenal because he’s not letting Dean go without him.

Sam wakes up from his nap and walks into the living room to find Dean staring intently at the screen of his laptop. But as soon as Dean hears the rustle of footsteps, he shuts the laptop and looks over with a nervous smile.

“So…” he drawls out. “Slept well?

Sam just nods his head. In actuality, Sam couldn’t sleep at all. He had nightmares and his head was throbbing. Like his heart had relocated itself to his skull. He felt a constant beat of pain for hours now and it’s all he can do to keep a straight face to not worry his brother. He can’t let Dean know that he’s in pain. Especially not when Dean will be finding ways to dump him behind while he goes out there, investigating mysterious deaths. So, he quietly pulls out a chair opposite of Dean and sits before he passes out. Sam keeps his hands on the table to hold his body upright. He wishes so badly to lie down on the couch right now because the room is spinning around him but he finds Castiel sprawled out on the couch. He must have slept off while watching TV. 

“Sammy?” 

Dean sounds concerned so that would only mean that Sam isn’t as good at acting as he likes to believe. So, he instantly finds a way to distract Dean from reading him as he often does. He pulls at the laptop. Dean just presses his palm at the top of the laptop to stop it from sliding towards Sam.

“I was… I was looking at something. Not quite done yet.“

“What were you looking at?”

“You know…” Dean smirks cheekily but Sam knows better than to buy it.

“Well, I wanna use it.”

“Later. Gimme an hour.”

“It’s _my_ laptop, Dean.”

“And I’m borrowing it. You can have it in an hour.”

“How long do you plan on hiding it?”

Dean stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sam resumes, “And how do you plan to leave without me knowing? Your angel can’t zap you as you wish. So what? You wanna run away at night when I’m sleeping? Disappear without a word?”

“I wouldn’t—“

“Then what, Dean? What’s the plan?”

“I was going to leave you a note. Jesus! Who’s the older brother here?”

“You are. So start acting like one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t be a dick, Dean. This thing about honesty, it works both ways.”

“What do you wanna know? Yes, I was planning to leave you behind for a while. People are dying out there, Sam. I can’t just sit here and play nanny.”

“And I’m not asking you to. Bring me along.”

Dean laughs bitterly. “Yeah, dream on.”

“Dean—“

“No, Sam. Not gonna happen.”

Sam begins to feel furious but as though the universe conspires against him to prove him wrong, his headache intensifies and he feels relentless piercing pain. He holds his head and groans in agony.

“Sam. Sam? Hey, what is it now? Look at me.”

Dean quickly scrambles to drag Sam's chair away from the table and kneel before him.

“Sammy, tell me what’s wrong.”

Sam breathes in large gulps of air, trying to will the pain to reside and he shouts a little when he felt a stab from within. Castiel stirs when he hears the shout and hurriedly pushes himself off the couch. He rushes to Sam and touches his forehead with two fingers. Such a familiar gesture but yet so strange. Sam looks up at that with confusion etched on his face and very soon, his expression changes into something else. That’s the exact moment when realisation hits Castiel like brick wall; cold, hard and painful. He forgot everything in the moment of mental aberration right after he woke up and allowed his instincts to guide him. He forgot he can’t heal. He takes his fingers away, looking embarrassed. Sam clutches his head tighter and focuses on breathing. Castiel can feel Dean’s intense gaze from where he was positioned. He’s afraid to look at Dean. Afraid of what he’ll see on his face. So he turns the other way and walks quickly to his room and locks himself. He’s no good out there anyway. And perhaps, it’s good that he didn’t look at Dean because he would have seen pity. And in his very, _very_ long and exhausting life, he has witnessed so much but never has he been on the receiving end of sympathy.


	11. This Moment Will Just Be Another Story Someday

Dean guided Sam to the couch and let him lie down while he thought of a solution for his headache and nausea. Sam had absolutely refused to go to the hospital because he claimed that there was nothing the doctors could do about it. And as much as Dean despises the thought, he knows that Sam is right. So, he has to come up with something else to soothe the pain. What would Dean do if he had a headache? He would drink himself into a stupor and fall asleep and handle the terrible hangover the next day. But Dean is an alcoholic, Sam isn’t. Sam tries to be as healthy as he can. The kid wakes up early to work out and jog for God’s sake. He eats salad for lunch and dinner. And as irritating as it can be, it’s a good habit so Dean isn’t going to introduce alcohol to that mix. He remembers when he was really young, mum used to make ginger tea for dad when he returned home after a long day. Maybe that might work. Dean used to make ginger tea for Sam when he was a kid and had a cold or stomach ache. Dad never left enough pocket money for a clinic visit so Dean had to come up with a different solution. With that, Dean started peeling the ginger and slicing it thinly as he boils hot water for tea. 

Come to think of it, John never drank ginger tea after Mary passed away. Maybe he hated it all along and only put up with it for Mary’s sake. Or maybe he didn’t like to be reminded of the times when she was there for him. Or maybe… maybe he just couldn’t bother to make tea when he could just grab the nearest bottle of cheap whiskey and down it till he felt nothing but the weight of his eyelids. Yes, that’s it. That’s how Dean learnt to drink anyone under the table. He learnt from his father. Once he strained the tea, he added an extra spoon of sugar to reduce the spicy bite. 

Sam drank a sip and his eyes widened. 

“More sugar?” Dean asked.

“No. No, it’s fine. It’s just…”

“Just like old times?”

“Yeah…” Sam smiled as he took another sip.

Once he finished his cup of tea, he had calmed down enough to lie down and sleep for a while. So, Dean sat on the table, in between Castiel’s room and Sam’s couch. He fired up the laptop for research but he was too distracted to concentrate. His eyes swivelled from one to the other, wondering what he was supposed to do. Sam seemed to feel better. He didn’t look as pale as earlier. But Castiel was still locked in his room and Dean didn’t know what to do about it. Castiel had no reasons to seclude himself because Dean understands. The poor guy had been an angel for millennia. It’s going to take some time to get used to being human. Dean gets it. He remembers the times when he was in Purgatory for a year. When he resurfaced on Earth, he had trouble coping too, for a while. Because in Purgatory, it’s kill or be killed. So, Dean is either chasing a monster down or running for his life. For the first month or so on Earth, he felt very restless and twitchy. His senses were sharpened and his instincts were heightened. He felt every movement, every presence around him. It was all he can do to try and remain calm as he followed Sam for grocery shopping. Every now and then, he turned too fast or moved too aggressively that he might have scared a few people. And what’s worse was the way his mind could come up with at least 3 different methods of killing a person within 10 seconds. It was very distracting. As he stood at the counter, waiting for his turn, he mentally deduced how easily he could kill the person in front of him and behind him within a minute. He even had to relearn the signs of his body. What it felt like when he needed food. What it felt like when he needed sleep. Because in monster heaven, he didn’t need either. He felt hungry and tired but he never _needed_ to refuel. After a week, he was surprised he didn’t die of sleep and food deprivation. That was how he understood that he didn’t have any other necessities in Purgatory other than keeping himself alive. So, if Dean who was born a human and stayed that way for nearly three decades had to teach himself to fulfil his basic necessities and unlearn certain skills that he picked up down under, he can see how difficult it must be for Castiel who is… ancient. He’s actually pretty impressed by how well Castiel is dealing with things. He’s learning fast and he doesn’t complain about being human. Dean knows that Castiel despises it but he doesn’t whine about it. 

Dean was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t realise time passing by. It was late evening so he figured he should make himself useful instead of micro analysing everything. Thinking isn’t his best trait. That would be Sam’s. He decided to cook dinner instead and for once, he wanted to cook something that Castiel might like. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what Castiel liked. He seemed to eat anything. One day, pancakes are his favourite. The next, spaghetti is his favourite. By evening, chocolate cookies are his favourite. He just eats and shows appreciation for anything he is offered. But Dean doesn’t know if he really does appreciate it or he pretends to so that he doesn’t offend anyone. Dean knows that Jimmy Novak had a craving for red meat because Castiel swallowed hundreds of burgers when Famine was in town. Maybe Castiel acquired a taste for burgers too. Dean decided to give it a try. He makes good burgers so even if Castiel didn’t care for it before, he sure will after he tries Dean’s home-made cheeseburgers. 

The only flaw in that plan is that Castiel has to leave the room which he doesn’t want to. Sam was already awake by the time Dean finished grilling succulent patties.

Dean knocked on Castiel’s door and announced, “Dinner time.”

No response. 

After 15 minutes, Dean asked Sam to lure the former angel out.

“Cas? Cas, dinner’s ready. We’re waiting for you.”

When Castiel didn’t make a sound, Sam tried again.

“Hey man, I get it. You kinda forgot that you’re not... It’s no big deal, really. It happens. In fact, I wanna thank you for trying. Now, would you please come out?”

All of his efforts were to no avail. So, Dean got hold of a paper clip and flat-head screwdriver. If Castiel wouldn’t leave his room, then he shall be forcibly removed. With that, Dean started picking the lock while Sam stood next to him with a disapproving look on his face. He tried to talk Dean out of it but Dean wasn’t going to stand there and watch his glorious burgers go to waste. That and deep down, he was terrified that Castiel might have done something incredibly stupid. Like hurt himself or even worse. Dean didn’t want to entertain that idea until he had proof. 

When the door opened, the Winchesters found Castiel sitting on his bed, rocking back and forth slowly while clutching his hands together. When he looked at the brothers, he seemed to be more relaxed than before. Almost peaceful.

“What were you doing for so long?” Dean asked.

“Praying.”

“To God?” Sam inquired.

Castiel nodded his head before quietly answering, “And Metatron.”

Dean almost choked on his saliva when he heard that. Even Sam visibly stood straighter.

“Why the hell are you praying to that bastard?” Dean asked indignantly.

“He is the only one who could fix it, Dean. He is the only one who knows how. Maybe I can make him change his mind.”

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound like a fucking plan?” Dean directed the question to Sam.

Sam just held out his hand to stop Dean and stepped forward to try and talk some sense into Castiel.

“What makes you think he’d change his mind, Cas?”

“I offer him stories.”

“Stories? What stories?” Dean interrogated.

“In my time of living, I have witnessed many great events. The rise and fall of civilisations on Earth, human discoveries and inventions, war and Apocalypse, Hell and Purgatory… I have plenty of stories to tell.”

“How come you never told us any of that?” Dean questioned.

“You never asked.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you to do a lot of things but that never stopped you before.”

“Dean!” Sam scolded. “Look Cas, Metatron isn’t going to change his mind. He wanted the angels to suffer. You’re only making him think he’s more powerful.”

“I have to try. I’m the only one who can. I’m the only one who remembers.”

Sam nodded understandingly, “I know. I understand. Trust me, I do. I used to drink demon blood because I thought I could save lives. In the end, it all came crashing down and that’s on me. I have to live with that. Just like you have to live with this. Metatron is not on your side. You can pray to God if it makes you feel better but not Metatron.”

Dean snorted, “Yeah, like God gives a crap.”

Sam glared at Dean and said, “Maybe He does. He resurrected Cas after I fell into the pit, didn’t He?”

Dean pondered upon it for a moment. “You’re saying the man upstairs has a thing for Cas?”

“I’m saying maybe He will hear Cas out. I mean, all the angels have fallen. They’re His children, after all. And if someone can stop Metatron, that will be God.”

“If He hasn’t checked out, that is. For all you know, God may be dead.”

As soon as Dean let the words escape his lips, he regretted it because Castiel looked like a kicked puppy. Like Dean just ripped his faith to shreds and told him everything he ever believed in was wrong. Maybe he did, in his own way. 

Dean sighed. “Sam has a point. Pray to God if you want. But not to that shady son of a bitch.”

Dean felt a little bad because who is he to boss Castiel around and tell him what to believe in? In fact, it was Castiel who taught Dean faith. It was Castiel who answered Dean’s prayers. And sometimes, he misses that reassuring feeling of having someone watch out for him. But now isn’t the time to brood over it.

“Come on, Cas. Dinner’s waiting,” Dean said.

“I’m not hungry,” Cas answered as he looked down at his hands.

“No wasting food. I made cheeseburgers. Give it a try.”

Sam tugged Castiel’s hand as he stood up. “Let’s go.” 

Castiel stood up and tagged along to the table where they settled to eat.

After a long moment of silence, Dean inquired, “So Cas, tell us a story.”

Castiel swallowed his food before asking, “What do you want to know?”

Sam said, “Anything. Like what’s the first thing you remember?”

“There was this little gray fish. I remember watching it lift itself up on the beach…”


	12. Bring It On

Dean was relieved that he somehow managed to escape from ‘The Conversation’ with Sam the day before but he knew he couldn’t avoid it much longer. However, he also knew with certainty that there was absolutely no way that he would be bringing Sam along for a hunt unless he miraculously healed. And these days -without the angel mojo- there is no such thing as miracles. So, Sam has got to suck it up and stay behind. Dean feels like a horrible person to admit this even in the confines of his mind but he was glad that Sam suffered from the massive headache the day before because it just serves to prove his point. So, it’s time for the older hunter to be out in the atrocious world alone again. The last time that happened he was in Purgatory but even so he had Benny. Deep down, Dean feels a little nervous himself. But he pushes all that aside and begins cleaning his guns early in the morning. 

*****

“You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Yes, I am. This is not even an argument any more.”

“You can’t stop me from coming along.”

“I’ll lock you in the dungeon, Sam. Don’t push it.”

“I wanna help, Dean. How long am I gonna be cooped up like this?”

“As long as it takes for you to be fit again.”

“How if I never get fit again? Then what?”

“Then you never go on a hunt again.”

Sam huffed indignantly. “What do I do then, Dean? Sit here all day and scrub the floors?”

“You’ll get better. Just give it some time, okay?”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You can barely stand for long without panting like you ran a hundred metres. What happens if something goes wrong out there? You are obviously in no state to run. I can’t carry you, You’re not 8 any more, you giant. And you can’t even hold the gun straight. How you gonna shoot--”

Sam interjected angrily, “Yeah yeah I get it. I’m no good for you out there. Don’t have to rub it on my face.”

“No, Sammy. You’re no good to me dead.”

Both the hunters remained silent for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Sam was so frustrated with himself because it felt like he could bring nothing to the table any longer. Like there was nothing he could do to help Dean or watch out for his back. And that terrified Sam because it’s his job to protect Dean as much as Dean protects him. He had a bad feeling about letting Dean hunt alone because Dean is no good to him dead either. Hell, Sam is only still alive and hurting right now because he decided to live for Dean instead of dying for him. And demons are running around freely only because Dean would rather bring the world down to ruins as long as he keeps Sam safe. Zachariah was right. These brothers are very, _very_ dangerously co-dependent. 

Dean tried to console his brother, “Look, Sam. You’re the brains of our operations, remember? So, do what you do best and help me find for cases, alright? Research stuffs and let me know where to begin.”

“Like Bobby?”

“Just like Bobby,” Dean smiled reassuringly.

Castiel appeared in the living room with his mussed-up hair and ocean blue eyes. The thing about Castiel’s eyes is that they are many shades of blue and nothing but _blue_. Usually, there’s some variance in bright-coloured eyes. Take Sam's, for instance. His eyes have inner rings of hazel and outer rings of blue that looks green from some angles. He also has traces of gray. But Castiel’s eyes are _blue_ with flecks of blue and streaks of blue and bluer on the outside. Ever since Castiel fell, his eyes seemed to be a darker shade of blue than before. It’s no longer as bright and clear, shining with some kind of ingrained innocence. It’s now deep blue orbs like whirlpools. Dean noticed it the day he taught him to shave but he didn’t mention it because he assumed that with the absence of Castiel’s grace, there’s a lack of light in his eyes. Maybe these were Jimmy Novak’s eyes staring back at him. But he still stared unnecessarily long with his eyes unbelievably wide like he’d forgotten to blink. So there are still some traces of Castiel in there. 

“Good morning, Dean. Good morning, Sam.”

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” Dean replied.

Sam just nodded at him and sat in front of his laptop. If he’s not allowed to hunt, he might as well make himself useful. 

“I’m hungry,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, I’m going out to get some grub. What do you guys want?”

“Grilled Corn, Avocado and Tomato Salad with Honey Lime Dressing,” Sam answered without looking up.

“What? Dude, that restaurant is 15 minutes drive. I was just planning to get something from the one around here.”

“Too bad. You asked what I wanted.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” He turned to Castiel, “How ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know. What are you getting?” Cas asked.

“It’s brunch. I’d get bacon cheeseburger.”

“Then, I would have the same. Thank you.”

Dean moved to grab his car keys when Castiel added, “Dean, I would like some coffee too, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

With that, Dean drove off, leaving Sam and Castiel in the bunker.

“Is something wrong, Sam?”

“No. Nothing,” Sam said as he read the recent cases online.

“Is there anything--?”

Sam interjected, “No.”

Castiel shut his mouth abruptly. Sam felt guilty because this wasn’t Castiel’s fault. He shouldn’t be taking it out on him. 

He sighed deeply before looking at Castiel, “Dean’s back on the job.”

“I see. He has a case?”

“I’m looking for one as we speak.”

“Okay. Why are you angry then?”

“I’m not angry. I’m just… I can’t tag along. I’m sick so I’m rendered useless. He has to do this on his own. I don’t know, man. The last time he went on a hunt alone was when we fought and went our separate ways. I want to help but I can’t.”

“I understand. Without my power, I’m just a baby in a trench coat.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re still keeping that at heart?”

“It fits the situation. Tell me, how can I help? I wish to assist you.”

“Hmmm… Here, go through the newspapers. Let me know if there’s something weird.”

Castiel grabbed the stack of newspapers and sat down opposite of Sam. 

“A man pronounced dead comes back to life after 30 minutes,” Castiel said excitedly.

“Nah, that’s not a case," Sam smiled. "He got lucky, good for him.”

“Sorry, my bad. He died again after two days.”

“Hmmm…okaaay,” Sam drawled.

“There’s a dog psychic in Maine.”

“No.”

“Two twin brothers died just hours apart, in separate accidents, on the same road. Both got hit by a truck.”

“Same truck?”

“No. Different trucks, different time but same day… and same road. And they’re identical twins.”

“Weird but… doesn’t seem like our kind of case. Could just be a coincidence.” 

Sam added, “When I said look for something weird, I mean something exceptionally strange that requires immediate attention. A hunter’s attention.” 

He mumbled under his breath, “Because there is a whole lot of weird shit going on these days.”

*****

Finally, in the evening, they found a case worth their time.

“Three girls disappeared last week,” Castiel said. “Not exceptionally strange.”

“No, no. I think it's the same one I'm reading. Last week right? Which state?” Sam asked.

“Iowa.”

Dean shrugged it off. “Nah, could just be a kidnapper. Not our kind of thing.”

“No, there’s an update on that news. Three girls disappeared and were found in the woods. Disappeared on different days and time…each one was found 3 days apart from the other. And get this, their hearts were missing. Local police says it looks like the hearts were ripped out of their chests. All other organs remain intact.”

“Okay, that sounds like our thing,” Dean agreed.

“What could it be? Werewolves?” Sam inquired.

“Not their time of the month.”

“But close. The next full moon is in 2 days.”

“But this started last week, Sam.”

“I don’t know. Just sayin’. You gotta check the post mortem report. See if there’s anything else.”

“Trip to Iowa then?”

“Looks like it.”

Dean stood up from the couch and stretched his body. He walked to one of the drawers and took out a box of silver bullets. He had a fond smile on his face as he removed one and examined.

“Oh, it’s been a long time,” he said to himself.

“What is that?” Castiel inquired.

Dean explained, “You wanna kill werewolves, this is it. Silver bullet to the heart.” 

“You’re not going alone, Dean,” Sam declared.

“What? Are we not done with this? Do I need to handcuff you to something?” Dean said exasperatedly.

“I get it. You won’t bring me. But call up someone, alright? Some other hunter nearby?”

“I work better alone.”

“Dean…”

“I don’t trust other hunters, Sam. Not since Walt and Roy.” 

“Who are they?” Castiel asked curiously.

“The sons of bitches that shot us and sent our asses to heaven.”

“Where are they now?”

“Six feet under. I’m a man of my word.”

Castiel didn’t understand what that meant but he didn't push it further. 

Instead, he replied eagerly, “I’ll go with you.”

“Nope. I don’t think so,” Dean said.

“But Dean, I can help.”

“You don’t know how to shoot a gun, Cas.”

“I can learn.”

“Now isn't the time. I’m driving to Iowa today.”

“I still have my blade. I reckon it can kill a werewolf.”

“You still have your angel blade?”

“Yes, I do. I kept it safe.”

“Oh man, can I borrow it? It’s silver, right?”

“Not unless you allow me to come with you.”

Sam interfered, “I think that’s a good idea, Dean. At least you’d have someone to watch your back.”

“If I’m not too busy watching out for his back, that is. It’s too much trouble.”

Instead of feeling offended or hurt, Castiel felt extremely angry. After all, he used to be an angel of the Lord and even declared himself God at some point. 

He announced loudly and his voice amplified with every word, “I’m not entirely powerless, Dean. I may not be able to annihilate with touch but I am still adept at close combat and blade fighting. I have been handling my blade longer than the combined age of all of the Winchesters and accomplices. Do not treat me as if I am frail and impotent!” 

For a moment, Dean felt like Castiel had returned. Castiel that he first met. Castiel that demanded him to show some respect and threatened to haul his ass back to hell. Castiel that dragged him into an alley and beat the crap out of him when he decided to be Michael’s Muppet. Strong, righteous, vigilant Castiel who fought tooth and nail for the Winchesters. Dean would bet all his money that if Castiel was still an angel, this would be the exact moment he would spread his wings. Dean always found it very fascinating. The angels had such frighteningly beautiful astral projections. 

“Dean, just bring him along,” Sam said cautiously as he moved to walk past Dean.

He whispered to Dean as their shoulders brush, “Don’t piss off the nerd angel.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk at that. 

“Fine, Cas. Start packing then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't figured out what this case would be about. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to share.


	13. Crawl Into The Space Between The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never read the bible. This is based on the interpretations of Bible I've read on the Internet. Forgive me if I'm wrong. Or even better, correct me.

That night, Sam begrudgingly waved his brother and friend goodbye. Dean would drive through the night and would reach Iowa by the next morning. Sam suddenly felt like the bunker was too big and lonely for one person. He felt –to be completely honest- a little sad that Castiel was replacing him, riding shotgun through the night with Dean and being his partner in crime. So, he went to sleep early that night because tomorrow, his brother might need him to read up on the case. And if all these extra hours of rest would help –based on Dean’s logic- then he wants to get back in the game as soon as he can.

Dean expected Castiel to fall asleep as soon as he began driving but the former angel seemed to be quite active. He seemed to be taking advantage of the fact that he could sit in front undisturbed and snooped around Dean’s stuffs. Always so curious. He opened the dashboard storage box and picked up a gun. He caressed the cold metal and examined it. 

“Careful, Cas. That gun is loaded.”

Castiel held the gun in his hand firmly and Dean looked in front as he drove. Something in Dean screamed at him to grab the gun from Castiel because a)he just announced that the gun is loaded and Castiel is still playing with it b) Castiel might be suicidal and c) thinking of a) and b) in the same line of thought is blood-curdling for Dean. So, instead of looking forward as he drove, he whipped his head to see what Castiel was doing. And he breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that Castiel didn’t have his finger on the trigger and the hammer was not cocked. Good thing he stared ahead in time or he would have missed a turning and drove straight into a barrier. 

“Dude, put the gun back where you found it.”

Castiel immediately put it back into the dashboard storage and looked like he just got scolded. 

He moved to shut it when Dean said, “Hey, you can look through anything else but not the gun, okay? I’m driving so it’s distracting. I’ll teach you how to shoot a gun some other time.”

Castiel nodded enthusiastically and began rummaging the storage box. He pulled out the small black box that stored all the fake IDs. He read through the names. 

“Richie Sambora?” Castiel questioned. 

“That is Sam’s. That kid loves Bon Jovi.”

He threw a glance at Castiel and caught him staring confusedly.

“It’s a rock band, Cas. Like you know… people who make music. Richie is the guitarist of the band and Sam is a fan.”

Castiel nodded understandingly.

“You’re D. Hasselhoff?”

“David Hasselhoff. Actor. He acted in Knight Rider. And Baywatch. Man, the chicks in Baywatch…” Dean whistled lewdly. 

“Eddie Moscone. That’s me,” Castiel exclaimed.

“Yup, that’s you.”

“You’re still keeping my fake FBI badge. Why?”

“Because you’re gonna need it later. We need access to the post mortem reports. And we gotta question the families.”

“But after all these years? You couldn’t have possibly known for sure that I would come back.”

Dean –although he’d die before admitting it- always holds on to hope. He always tells himself they’d find a way. It’s his survival mechanism. If he doesn’t believe that there’s a choice and a solution to everything, he would have nothing to live for. Somewhere deep down, he believed Castiel will come back home. And if he didn’t, well, he’d still keep that badge for memory sake. After all, it was some of the best times Dean had with Castiel. Sometimes, he remembers that trip to the whorehouse and Castiel’s startled expression and it still makes him laugh after all these years. 

“Keep it back, Cas. I’m not making you a new one if you lose it.”

Castiel understood that Dean wanted to avoid the conversation and he placed the box where he took it from. He closed the storage and noticed a box tugged away under the seat. He picked up the box of old cassettes and ran his fingers on it.

He read under his breath, “Metallica, Pink Floyd, The Rolling Stones, Def Leppard, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Alice in Ch—“

“What? You’re gonna list down all the cassettes? Pick one. I’ll give you a lesson on good music.”

Castiel smiled widely and skimmed through the cassette to choose one. He took too long, trying to decide. So, Dean just put his hand in the box and grabbed one.

“They’re all good music. You don’t have to take forever,” Dean mumbled as he turned the cassette around.

“Led Zeppelin! It’s your lucky day,” Dean smiled genuinely and the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

The smile was contagious and Castiel found himself imitating it.

“This is Best of Led Zeppelin, Early Days. There’s Volume 2 somewhere in there. I have all the albums actually. You can listen to it one by one when you have the time. This will do for now. ”

“In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be a man,” Dean sang along. “Now I've reached that age, I've tried to do all—“

He stopped when he felt Castiel staring at him.

“Okay, it’s your first time. I shouldn’t get in the way of you getting an eargasm.”

“What is an eargasm?”

“It’s when the music is so awesome that you feel like… “ He stopped and cleared his throat.

“You feel like what, Dean?”

“You feel awesome.”

“Is that how you feel when you sing along?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. It’s so awesome that you wanna sing along.”

“Then, go ahead and sing along, Dean. I don’t mind.”

Dean just laughed a little and quipped, “Don’t need to mock me now.”

“No, I’m not mocking you. You sing well. And you sound happy. I don’t mind at all. Enjoy yourself.”

Castiel cranked up the volume.

“There. Have your eargasm,” Castiel said fondly. 

Dean sang along to ‘Good Times Bad Times’ simply because Castiel had a smile on his face the entire time. It was nice to see him look so relaxed. It was nice to _be_ relaxed around Castiel without constantly worrying about him. He kept quiet through the next few songs though because he noticed that Castiel truly paid attention to the music. 

_And if I say to you tomorrow, Take my hand, child, come with me.  
It's to a castle I will take you, where what's to be, they say will be._

Dean glanced at Castiel and found Castiel slunk down in his seat. His eyes drooped a little as he stared straight ahead.

“Go to sleep if you want, Cas. I’ll turn it off.”

“No, no. I don’t mind. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

Castiel didn’t answer and Dean didn’t want to push it further if he didn’t wish to talk about it.

“So, you got music in Heaven, Cas? You sit on the cloud and play the harp or something?” Dean asked playfully.

“No, I don’t. But there is music, most definitely. It is one of God’s most beautiful inventions. The ability to communicate without language.”

“What kind of music? Do they play Led Zeppelin? ‘Cause man, these people are Rock Gods.”

“Do not blaspheme, Dean.”

Dean chuckled and prodded, “Come on Cas, who plays the harp?”

“No angels play the harp in a literal manner, Dean. We used to have an angel of music though. When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy...” Castiel said as he drifted off in remembrance.

“Who was it?”

“Take a guess,” Castiel smiled.

“Wait a minute. Don’t tell me it’s you.” Dean laughed.

“It’s a nice compliment but no.”

“Is it an angel I know?”

“Yes.”

“Raphael? Nah, he’s too... tense. Always angry like he has a rod up his ass,” Dean mumbled.

“Dean...”

“Okay, sorry. Wait, I think I know. Anna? Is it Anna?”

“No. What makes you think it’s Anna?”

“I don’t know. She has got beautiful flowing hair. Just felt like she would suit the role.”

“What you saw is only her vessel, Dean. Not her true form. But indeed, Anna was beautiful.”

“Gimme a clue then.”

“The angel of music is also the most beautiful of them all.”

“Oh I know. It’s got to be Michael then. I mean look at his choice of vessel," Dean gestured his hand towards him. "He picked a handsome stud. He has good taste in men,” Dean joked.

Castiel laughed at that.

“No. Self praise is no praise. Isn’t that the saying?”

“Well, it’s the only praise I ever get,” Dean mumbled. “I don’t know, Cas. Who is it?”

“I will give you one last clue. He is the Light Bearer. And you know this angel.”

“What, the trickster? Gabriel?"

Castiel shook his head. 

"Balthazar? Oh God, please don’t tell me it’s Uriel. Or that dickbag Zachariah? He is _not_ beautiful at all.”

“All my brothers and sisters are beautiful, Dean," Castiel reproved. "But the answer is Lucifer. He was the Ministry of Music before he fell from Heaven.”

“He was the most beautiful angel?”

Castiel nodded.

“So... since people claim that rock n roll is a form of devil worship, and the devil is Lucifer who was in charge of music, that would mean rock music is truly the best of them all,” Dean laughed amusedly. 

“That is debatable.”

“Then what? After he fell, no more music for you guys?”

“No, Sandalphon became the Master of Music. He was once a mortal man. A prophet. He was called Elijah before he was elevated to an angelic status.”

“Lucky for him. Maybe someday, Kevin would...” Dean immediately shut his mouth when he realised what he was about to say. That would never happen since there are no more angels.

“I doubt that would happen given the circumstances," Castiel answered in a grave tone. "Unless with God’s interference. Maybe Sandalphon could have talked Metatron out of this mess but it’s too late. He has already fallen.”

“Why? You think Sandalphon could have sang some sense into that bastard?”

“Maybe. Sandalphon was the twin brother of Metatron.”

Dean choked on his own saliva.

“Let’s not talk about it, Cas. You should go to sleep. Long day ahead,” he said after regaining composure.

Castiel just nodded solemnly and changed position to turn away from Dean.

Dean just drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove in reminiscence. He thought back of all the times John drove them at night while Sam used to sleep in the back seat. Back then, he was small enough to fit in the back seat and lie comfortably. Dean used to stay awake next to his dad to keep him company. To shake him awake when John looked like he might doze off. And these songs were his lullabies. Then, Sam left to Stanford and John gave him the Impala. During those lonely days, these songs were comforting. Kept him grounded and reminded him that not everything has changed. In a couple of years, he had Sam sitting next to him, all grown up and twisting his limbs to fit in the car and still falling asleep to these songs. Now, he has Castiel, intently listening to every word of the songs as though there was an encrypted code. Castiel who is riding shotgun and listening to Led Zeppelin without realising how crucial this moment is to their friendship. Castiel who only knows but doesn’t fully understand how much Led Zeppelin, the Impala and this fallen angel wearing the skin of Jimmy Novak mean to Dean. Maybe it’s better that way because Dean would never -for the life of him- admit it.

The cassette ended and it made a ticking noise to indicate that it was about to replay. Dean ejected it because he assumed Castiel fell asleep already.

“You can’t _buy_ the stairway to Heaven. I would know,” Castiel said quietly as he stared out the window into the darkness that surrounded them.

Dean was startled when he suddenly spoke but regained his composure.

“Yeah, it’s just a… metaphor.”

As he closed his eyes and prepared to fall asleep, Castiel said solemnly, “If I could, I would…”


	14. Closeness Rubs Irritation

It was a little past six in the morning when Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of a motel. He woke Castiel up and climbed out of the car to stretch his body. He could hear the cracking noise of his spine as it readjusted itself. He felt so uncomfortably stiff and his back hurt. 

“God, I’m getting old,” he muttered to himself.

“What?” Castiel asked as he rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs.

“I said I’m getting old.”

“Yes, I believe that’s the way aging works.” Castiel stated cautiously as he didn’t understand why Dean would caption the obvious.

Dean used to get very frustrated when Castiel didn’t comprehend most of the things he said but these days, he appreciates the cluelessness. Because he can be sure that he’s speaking to Castiel. The real Castiel. Not one under angelic influence or a ticking time bomb fuelled by the power surge from countless souls. 

“Forget I said anything. Come, carry your bag.”

Castiel picked up his bag and Dean carried his before shutting the truck of the car. 

They walked into the motel and Dean approached the person in charge in the front desk. She was young and average looking but Dean would flirt with anything that had a heart beat. 

So he put on his best smile despite the fatigue and said, “Hey.”

“Hello. How can I help you?” She returned his smile with a blush. 

As Dean stepped close enough to see her clearly in the dim light, he noticed that she cannot be more than 16. So, he withdrew a little and composed himself to look less flirtatious. 

“Two rooms, please.”

“Why do we need two rooms?” Castiel questioned as he appeared next to Dean.

“You gotta sleep too, right?”

“But you always take one room with Sam.”

“Well, yeah. We can afford two today.”

“It’s okay. Save the money for a rainy day. Is that how they say it?” He turned to the girl for an answer, “Rainy day?”

The girl looked flustered and quite frankly, disappointed as she looked over at the rows of keys to check for available rooms.

“One room then. King sized bed?” She blushed furiously as she said it and Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

_’Why do people always assume shit?’_ he wondered.

“No. _Obviously not_ ,” he emphasised as he looked annoyed. 

He added, “Two single beds.”

Just when he thought she couldn’t blush more, he was proven wrong. 

This time with a gleeful smile, she answered, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

As she turned to the rows of keys to inspect further, Dean said, “Oh, and if possible, ground floor and near the fire exit. The nearer, the better.”

“Why?” Castiel asked.

“Later, Cas.”

“Here, room 221B. The nearest to the exit. Just straight down that corridor.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied and walked off without a second glance.

“Have a nice day,” she added as she leaned against the counter to watch him.

Dean found the room, opened the door and walked in first. Castiel followed right behind.

“Lock the door, Cas.”

Castiel did as he was told. By the time he turned around, Dean rummaged through his backpack and found what he was looking for. Salt. He threw a can towards Castiel and pointed at the doorway. Castiel understood it –isn’t that a surprise?- and put his bag down on the bed before turning his back to Dean. Dean grabbed another can to form salt lines on the window sills.

“God, I miss my room already.”

It had been quite long since Dean had to stay in cheap motels. He got used to the comforts of his home and certainly does not miss the stink of cheap motel and the creak of the wooden floors. Let’s not even start talking about the weird stains here and there. 

“Why?” Castiel asked.

“Because my room is nicer, duh.”

“No, Dean.” Castiel looked at him exasperatedly. “You said you’d let me know later why you picked the room near the fire exit.”

Dean placed the can back in his bag and pushed Castiel’s bag off the bed as he sat. 

He explained, “Always remember,Cas, when you’re out on a hunt, you take the room on ground floor, near the fire exit. If anything happens, you can run.”

“You mean if demons track us back to the motel.”

“Demons, witches… cops. Whoever, it doesn’t matter. It’s the safest.”

Castiel stood up from his squatting position.

“My bag. That’s rude, Dean.”

“This is my bed,” Dean said simply as he took his toothbrush out.

“Who said so?”

“I did.”

Castiel just stared Dean down.

“I always sleep on the bed closest to the door.”

Castiel still glared at him.

“What?” Dean asked petulantly. 

He was about to get up and go to the bathroom to brush his teeth but he didn’t because he had a feeling that Castiel would push his bag away and claim the bed.

“You’re bossy,” Castiel answered.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You always decide for everyone. You don’t even have the courtesy to ask.”

Dean got irritated.

“Can you shoot a gun, Cas?” 

Castiel kept quiet. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I always sleep on the side nearest to the door because if someone breaks in, I can shoot. And Sam would have enough time to react. That’s how things have always been. Just cause you’re here now doesn’t mean I’m gonna change my ways. So suck it up and take the other bed,” Dean scolded.

Castiel seized his bag from the floor and walked over to the other bed. Dean assumed his bed was safe enough to be left alone and went to brush his teeth. By the time he returned, Castiel was already asleep. Dean set the alarm in his phone to ring at 11 am. He would have enough time to get ready, have lunch and drop by the coroner’s office.

*****

Dean groaned and shifted when the alarm rang. He turned it off and dropped his head on the pillow, trying to force himself to wake up. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and mentally counted from 10 to 1. Upon reaching 1, he repeated it a few times before pushing himself off the bed.

“Cas,” he said before clearing his throat.

His voice was rough from sleep.

“Wake up, man.”

No response. He looked over to find Castiel’s bed empty.

“Cas? You in there?” Dean called out towards the bathroom.

Silence. He got up and walked towards the bathroom, trying to calm his sudden worries. Upon finding the room empty, he let panic kick in. The salt line near the door had been broken and reformed. That meant that nobody took Castiel. He must have left by himself. Dean couldn’t call him because he doesn’t have a phone. So, he rushed out of the room to the front desk. There was an older woman accompanying the girl he met earlier. Probably her mother. 

“Hello there. Enjoying your stay?” the older woman asked with a smile.

“Hey. My friend… he’s not… Did you see a guy, about my height, shorter than me actually, black hair, blue eyes?” He turned to the girl next to her, “I mean, you’ve seen him. Earlier. Did you see--?”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” the girl said calmly with a weird look on her face.

“He went out almost an hour ago,” she continued.

“Where? Did he say anything?”

“Nooo…” she drawled. “But I’m sure he’d be back.”

“Why? Did he tell you--?”

The girl interjected exasperatedly, “No, he didn’t tell me anything. I’m assuming he’d be back. He just went for a walk. Now, would you calm down?”

“Jessie, don’t be rude,” her mother reproved.

“I think he’d be back in a while, sir. Do you need anything else?” the older woman directed the question to Dean.

“Hmmm… No. No, thanks.”

With that, he rushed back to his room and looked for Castiel’s bag.

_Don’t, Cas. Don’t you run away again._

However, he found Castiel’s bag exactly where he put it. In fact, he found his own bag opened up and found his wallet at the top of his –not very neatly- folded clothes. He opened the wallet to inspect it further and noticed that he was short of 50 dollars. 

_What does he need that money for? Where could he possibly…_

_Oh no, he would need money to buy a bus ticket. Could he have…_

_But he left his bag. And he wanted to come with me. He wouldn’t leave me here alone and run…_

_But if he wanted to escape, this would be the best way to do it. The bunker is in a deserted area, he can’t run far._

_But this is Cas, he wouldn’t abandon…_

_Oh no, this is **very** Cas. He didn’t stay before, why would he now?_

_Because now he doesn’t have a reason to leave. He doesn’t have something more important to…_

_He **always** has something more important than me. Everybody does. _

Dean tried so hard to make sense of the situation as conflicting responses battled for supremacy. He didn’t hear the turn of the knob or the creak of the door as it opened.

“You’re up.”

The voice broke Dean out of his internal debate. He turned around quickly to find Castiel, carefully placing burgers on the table as he balanced two cups of coffee in his hand.

“Jesus, Cas. Where the hell have you been?” Dean asked although he should have known the answer by now.

“I bought us lunch. _I_ didn’t exactly buy… I used your money to buy food. And coffee, of course. I will never forget the coffee.” 

Castiel smiled self-indulgently. He looked as if he truly believed that he deserved a pat in the back for his willingness to walk down the street and buy them food.

“Why the hell didn’t you just wake me up?!” Dean barely contained his voice. 

Castiel was taken aback for a moment.

“I… I figured I’d save us some time. I was up early and--”

“Next time, you tell me first before you take off running!”

“I didn’t run—“

“Yeah, whatever the hell you’re up to, you tell me first!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel felt angry again. He rebelled against his superiors and neglected their orders when he was an angel. So, why on earth would he start taking orders from this mortal being now? If he didn’t have two cups of coffee in his hands –that is if he didn’t love coffee enough to not want to waste it- he would have shoved Dean against the wall and taught him some manners. For now, he settled with fixing Dean a glare and clenching his jaw to refrain from telling him off. Dean took out his suit from the bag –the only piece of clothing that had been neatly folded because Sam folded it for him- and left to take a shower. He was still running on the adrenaline rush and tried to cool off. Castiel placed Dean’s coffee by his bedside table and carried his portion of the meal to his bed. He turned the TV on and took a bite of his cheeseburger. 

*****

Dean opened the storage box and took out two IDs. He threw one towards Castiel and the other man caught it effortlessly. He then took one of his phones from the box and passed it to Castiel. 

“Keep that with you at all times. My number, Sam’s, Garth’s, Kevin’s… Well, you have all the numbers you need saved in there,” Dean spoke for the first time since they left the motel although he still refused to look at Castiel.

Castiel tucked the phone in his old trench coat. He was glad to finally have an excuse to wear his coat again. The familiarity was comforting.

“And hold the badge right this time,” Dean said with a serious expression as he struggled to refrain the smile that was threatening to surface from the sheer memory of it.

As he walked towards the entrance, he turned around and spoke again, “No playing bad cop. Just… don’t say anything. Let me handle this.”

Castiel could feel his blood beginning to boil again but he clenched his fist and followed Dean’s lead. It’s difficult to control how quickly he loses his temper these days because part of being human is the inability to constantly let his mind dictate his actions. Sometimes, emotions get the better of him. But that might also have something to do with his manufacturing defects. Even as an angel, he felt more than the rest. Castiel was the black sheep even then. The angel that others refused to work with because he wasn’t right for any tasks. That was why Castiel was demoted and placed under Uriel’s authority. Uriel was ruthless unlike him.

Dean walked into an office and announced, “Hi. Special Agent Mosely. This is my partner, Special Agent Moscone.”

This time Castiel pulled out his badge and displayed it right. He even looked fierce instead of looking like a lost puppy. Dean couldn’t help but smirk as he felt proud of the former angel.

“Dr. Lecter. How can I help you?”

“We’re here about the heartless girls,” he smirked but the man seated behind the desk seemed unimpressed. 

Dean cleared his throat before adding, “We’re gonna need the autopsy reports and check the bodies.”

“I wasn’t informed that the FBI had any interest in that.”

“Violent crime. Signs of a serial killer.”

“Alright. I’m going to need your supervisor to fill these forms. Signed chain of custody request.”

“Look, Dr. Lecter, we travelled a long way. We need access to information today. I’m sure we could work something out. Why don’t you show us the bodies first and we’ll hand this in tomorrow?” Dean put on his best smile.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I can’t let you anywhere near the bodies without proper authorisation.”

“How ‘bout you give a call to my supervisor? He can give you the override,” Dean handed a card with Garth’s number on it.

Dr. Lecter stared for a long moment before accepting the card and calling the number.

“Apparently, your supervisor isn’t available. Sorry, bad day for you. Come back with the signed form, agent.”

_What the hell, Garth?_ Dean cursed inwardly.

Dr. Lecter turned around to face the computer screen when Dean spoke again.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry, my bad. This case is put under a new supervisor. I accidentally passed you the old one. Silly me. Here, call this number. It’s our Assistant Director,” Dean pulled out another card with Sam’s number on it.

Dr. Lecter just sat back with a straight finger and thumb supporting his chin. 

“Ask my partner, we just got assigned a different supervisor. I gave you the wrong one out of habit.”

Dr. Lecter’s eyes swivelled from Dean to the other man. Castiel stood there, stoically and did nothing to back Dean up. Dean cleared his throat as a sign for Castiel to reaffirm his previous statement. Castiel glanced at Dean but remained silent. Dean just stood there awkwardly with his hand outstretched, still offering the card. 

“Can I see your ID again?” 

Dean and Castiel flashed their badges again. 

“What are your badge numbers?”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean said exasperatedly.

“I’m not, Agent Mosely. I’m only following protocol.” 

“Yeah, and if you call our AD, he’ll clear this out.”

Dr. Lecter sighed and took the card. Fortunately, when he called this time, Sam picked up.

“D.C. Bureau?” Sam answered.

“Assistant Director Angus, please?”

“Yes, speaking. What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Lecter here. I’m calling regarding two of your men--” 

Dean turned to Castiel while the other man questioned Sam.

“Why didn’t you back me up, dude?”

“You told me not to say anything,” Castiel answered nonchalantly.

“Oh come on, don’t be an idiot.”

“I am not an idiot, Dean.” Castiel gritted out.

“Sssshhh… I’m Alonzo Mosely,” Dean whispered as he kept his eyes fixed on the back of Dr. Lecter’s head.

“You asked me to let you handle the situation and I did as you told. Stop ordering me around! I am not your servant.”

“I didn’t say you were—“ Dean stopped midsentence when Dr. Lecter hung up and turned around.

“Alright then, agents. This way,” he led the boys out of the office.


	15. Partners In Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in almost a week. I'm sorry. I initially intended to finish the entire case in one chapter. But it's taking me too long so I decided to break it down. Thank you for your patience.

“Dude, definitely our kind of thing,” Dean said on the phone to Sam.

“Yeah, what was it?” Sam asked.

“The hearts weren’t cut out. They were _ripped_ out. Like with bare hands. Claws maybe. I can’t be precise. Just messy and violent.”

“Anything else? Any signs of struggle?”

“Yeah, they did fight back. I don’t know, there were some signs of abrasions from falling too hard or writhing on the ground but no traces under the nails, no physical evidence of the perp. So, yeah, not human.”

“So, you think we’re dealing with a werewolf?”

“Maybe. That’s the lucky guess. It’s a little odd that they hunt more than a week earlier but we’ve seen crazier shit.”

“Tomorrow night is full moon, Dean.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Watch out, alright?”

“Don’t worry, Sammy. Got enough bullets to go on a shooting rampage. And Cas has got his blade.”

“Watch out for him as well.”

“Does it need saying?”

“Call me if you need something. Or if you have an update or… whatever.”

“Will do. Gotta go now.”

“Okay. Tell Cas I said hi. And… take care.”

“Yeah, ‘kay. Bye.”

Dean then turned to look at Castiel sitting next to him in the Impala, staring attentively.

“Sam said hi.”

The corners of Castiel’s mouth tugged a little. Possibly the first time he smiled in the whole day.

“How is he doing?” Castiel asked.

“Good.”

Dean revved the engine and backed his car from the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked.

“Interrogation.”

After speaking to victims’ families, one thing was very clear. None of the murders were random. The three girls were related to each other. They studied in the same school and were a part of the same gang. All of them disappeared on their way back from school and were found later in the woods. The school has been closed for a week until the serial killer is arrested. This led the boys to Annie Parker’s house. The last member of the group that’s still breathing. However, upon arriving, Mr and Mrs Parker wouldn’t let the boys come in. They claimed that their daughter has been through enough and will not be answering any more questions from the authority. Dean tried to convince them that he could help, that he understood they were afraid but if he knew first-hand what’s happening, he will be able to help keep the girl safe. But all his attempts were futile. Even after threatening to arrest them for obstruction of justice, Mr. Parker refused to let the boys in. 

“My daughter just suffered three losses in a matter of a week. She’s a victim and I will not let you treat her like a suspect. Come back with a warrant, Officer. Or don’t come back at all,” Mr. Parker spat out. 

This led Dean to make two conclusions. 

“Either she’s next on the list. Or she’s the perp,” he said to Sam.

“What? You think she’s been turned? She’s a werewolf?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s a witch.”

“Why? Found hex bags?”

“Nope. Just saying. They disappeared after school and were found in the woods. Hex bags could be anywhere.”

“But it’s her friends. Her parents said she was devastated, right?“ Sam argued.

“Yeah. Maybe she secretly hated them. I mean, come on. You watch chick films.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Like Mean Girls. Maybe she was being fake.”

“I’ve never watched that movie, Dean.”

“Not the point, Sam. I’m saying--” Dean tried to cover but Sam interrupted.

“Which means you have watched it,” Sam laughed. “And you call me a bitch.”

“Cause you are one. Can you not do this right now?”

“If you think I’m gonna let this go, you are so wrong.” He takes a deep breath to suppress his laughter from resurfacing. “But you’re right. We’ll deal with this later.”

“I was drunk. And bored. And it was the only show on TV.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam laughed again.

“Shut up! Anyway, her parents wouldn’t say anything. Maybe they’re covering up for her.”

“But if she was a witch, Dean, don’t you think it would be stupid of her to finish all three of her friends at once? I mean, she gotta know that that will attract attention. She gotta know that she’d be a suspect.”

“Not if she’s a skilled one. I mean, she left no traces. The cops can’t tie it to her.”

“But hunters can. She must have thought about that.”

“She’s 16. I don’t think she’s _that_ smart.”

“So…? What’s the plan? Breaking and entering?”

“No. If she executed this thoroughly, this may not be her first time. I’m gonna check out any other recent cases of unusual deaths in that school.”

“Okay. Just… be careful.”

“Yeah. Talk to you later.”

Dean ended the conversation and turned around to find Castiel looking at him. But it wasn’t the usual curious expression or the look he gave when he was paying attention. He looked… sad. Or angry. Dean couldn’t quite tell but it definitely wasn’t normal. Dean just put his key into ignition and twisted it until the engine of the Impala began roaring. He turned behind to look for cars as he reversed and he could still feel Castiel’s eyes on him. 

Without returning the stare, Dean said, “You’re doing it again.”

“What?” Castiel asked. 

He sounded annoyed.

“Staring.”

Castiel pointedly looked away. Dean didn’t know what exactly Castiel’s problem was but he didn’t intend to pry into it just yet. He has got more important things at hand. In the motel room, he read some of the case files he obtained from the detective and waited for Sam’s input.

“So, did you find anything?” Dean asked as he put the phone on loud speaker.

“No. You?”

“No. Would you hurry up? You’re the one with the laptop.”

“Dean, I’m still reading, alright? I’ll give you a call once I find something. Stop bothering me.”

“Well, be quick. If she’s a werewolf, I don’t have an idea who she’d wanna hunt today. I should have taken your laptop with me,” Dean replied exasperatedly.

“Or maybe you should have just taken me along. You’re the one who insisted I stay home. So shut up and let me do my job,” Sam said before he hung up.

Dean took another sip of his beer and squirmed on the hard, wooden chair he was sitting on when he caught Castiel staring again. This time, he could tell. Angry. That was definitely a glare. 

“What?” Dean asked petulantly.

Castiel raised up the intensity of his glare to another notch.

“What’s your problem, Cas?” Dean began to feel angry himself.

“Do you want me here or not?” Castiel asked with a quiet yet harsh tone.

“What?” Dean asked incredulously.

“You brought me along but you wouldn’t discuss the case with me. The entire day, I have been tagging along like a dog without a clue. I have to listen to your conversation with Sam for me to know what’s happening. I may not be an angel any more but I am not your dog, Dean,” Castiel answered, his voice gradually getting louder as he stood from where he was perched on his bed.

Dean was shell shocked by the sudden outburst.

“What? I didn’t say you were--”

However, as Dean’s mind started whirring again, he got angry. He raised his voice too.

“What the hell, Cas? You only know how to smite things. You have no experience dealing with people or figuring this shit out. So, I thought I’d let you in on it once I know what it is. You can have your goddamn mood swings, I don’t fucking care. But quit dumping your issues on me!”

For a moment, Dean expected Castiel to grab him by the neck and throw him across the wall. But he knew Castiel no longer had the juice for it. So they ended up glaring at each other for few excruciatingly long minutes, both not intending to give up. Dean broke the stare when his phone rang. It was Sam.

“Dean, get this. A month ago, Chloe Wells passed away. And guess what, she was from the same school and same group of friends. There’s no case file that I can access but I found her Facebook. She was close to the rest. You think Annie could have killed her too?”

“We gotta know how she died for that.”

“I can’t tell exactly how but looking at the stuff people wrote on her Facebook, she may have been sick.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

Dean hung up and grabbed his suit jacket and car keys.

“You gonna come along or not? I don’t have the time to slug it out with you.”

Dean walked out of the room and Castiel just followed him with a pinched expression on his face. Upon speaking to the detective, Dean obtained Chloe Wells address and drove to her place.

*****

“Yes, I heard about the girls. I pray every night that the police will find the man responsible for their deaths,” Mrs Wells said as she wiped her tears.

Dean sat opposite of her in the living room while Castiel stood next to him.

“Can I get you something to drink, Agent?”

“No, thanks.”

“How about you, sir?” she directed the question to Castiel.

Dean answered on his behalf, “No, it’s okay. He’s fine.”

Mrs. Wells looked a little flustered when Castiel glared at Dean from where he stood. 

“Hold on, I’ll get you a chair,” Mrs. Wells said as she moved a few steps towards the kitchen.

“No, no. We’re not gonna be here for long. Please, do sit, Mrs. Wells,” Dean answered again on Castiel’s behalf.

Castiel was furious. He didn’t need a drink or a seat but he would have appreciated the gesture if Dean didn’t butt in all the time. But he quietly stood.

“How ‘bout Chloe?” Dean inquired.

“What about Chloe?” the woman asked, looking surprised.

“How did she pass away?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just asking, Mrs. Wells. I heard she passed away last month.”

“She had a heart attack,” Mrs. Wells choked out as she cried.

“Heart attack?” Dean asked. “I thought she was 16.”

“She _was_ 16,” Mrs. Wells looked at him with a confused expression.

“How did she get a heart attack? That’s way too young. Was she obese?” Dean questioned without thinking.

He wasn’t aware how insensitive he was being until he saw her crying again. This is why Sam needs to be there. He –unlike Dean- knew how to ask the right questions without being offensive. Dean was too straight forward at times and let’s not even start talking about Castiel’s bluntness. 

“I mean, I’m sorry. It’s just not very typical for a young girl—“

“Yes, yes. I know. She wasn’t obese. She… she had a weak heart since birth,” the woman answered as she attempted to calm the sobs that were threatening to rip out. 

“She was sleeping over with the girls that night. She got scared of something, I don’t know what. She told the girls she couldn’t breathe, that her neck and jaw and back hurt. They called me and I called the ambulance but I was… I was too late. She was gone,” she broke down.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Wells. But I have to ask, you said she was with the girls. Do you mean the victims?”

“Yes… And Annie too. They always hung out together. Poor Annie. She must be devastated.”

“Was Chloe buried?”

“What?”

“Just… Sorry, please just answer the question, Mrs. Wells.”

“No. No, she was cremated.”

With that, Dean said thank you and left the house. He called Sam to update him. 

“Chloe did it?” Sam asked.

“No, she was cremated.”

“You think Annie did it then?”

“Could be. Chloe was scared of something when she had the attack.”

“You need to speak to her, Dean.”

“I know, I know. But her parents won’t let me talk to her. They’re asking for a warrant.”

“Then, make the detective get you a warrant.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s too risky, Sam. If they find out we’re phonies, they’d lock us up. And my wingman no longer has wings, remember?”

That earned Dean another dagger stare from Castiel.

“Well, find a way, Dean.”

“Yeah, very helpful,” Dean said before he hung up for what seemed like the hundredth time.


	16. This Wasn't Supposed To Happen

It was already dark and Dean still had no idea what it could be. He was pretty convinced that it was a werewolf but he had to take into account that Chloe was so terrified of something that she had a cardiac arrest. Maybe a witch but he had no evidence to support that. No hex bags. He was clueless and he knew somehow it all tied down to Annie Parker. So, he had to give it another try. He knocked on the Parker’s door again and her mother opened up.

“You are harassing us, officer,” she spat out.

“Listen, I’m only trying to help.”

“Honey, they’re here again,” she called her husband. 

Dean could hear the footsteps as the man hurried down the stairs.

“Jesus… I’m gonna call my lawyer,” Mr. Parker said indignantly.

Before Dean could say another word, he heard someone screaming.

“DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE! DAD, COME BACK! DON’T LEAVE MEEEEEEE!”

“I’ll be right back, Annie,” her dad shouted back.

“PLEASEEEE! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Mrs. Parker ran up without thinking twice. Dean stopped the door just as the man was about to slam it shut.

“Look, I can help. Trust me. I can help. Your daughter is scared of something.”

The girl was still crying loudly and screeching.

“Go away!” Mr. Parker exclaimed. “My daughter has been through so much. She’s having difficulties coping. She’s on therapy. We don’t need your help.”

“You don’t—“ 

Before Dean could finish talking, Castiel pushed him a little and stood before him.

“Let us in. Now!” He dead-panned.

“What? Who the hell do you think you are?” Mr. Parker asked indignantly.

Castiel didn’t answer. He just shoved the door so hard that the man fell on his back. Castiel just walked in uninvited and climbed the stairs.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean called out but hurried right behind before Mr. Parker could regain his balance.

They rushed into a room with all the lights on and the windows and mirrors were covered with cloth. A brown-haired girl sat on her bed, rocking back and forth as Mrs. Parker hugged her tightly.

Dean locked the door so that Mr. Parker who was rushing up the stairs couldn’t enter. He could hear the man screaming something about calling the cops and violation of privacy. 

Dean walked towards the girl and said, “Annie, look, I don’t know what is going on but I know I can help you. Tell me, what are you afraid of?”

“Don’t you dare? GET OUT!” her mother barked.

Dean ignored her as he continued talking.

“Annie, look at me.”

The girl slowly looked up, tears still running down her cheeks.

“Talk to me. I can help. What is it? You’re scared. Why?”

“You won’t believe me,” she choked out.

“Trust me, I will,” Dean answered.

“No one believed me. Not even mum and dad.” 

“That’s not true,” her mother scolded.

“YOU THINK I’M CRAZY!” Annie shouted back.

“Annie, look at me. I don’t think you’re crazy. I believe you. I’m not like everyone else. Talk to me. What did you see?” Dean said.

“I’m next,” The girl blurted out. “Oh God, I’m next!”

“Next what?”

“I’M GONNA DIE!”

“No. Not if you tell me who’s doing this. I promise, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Chloe. It’s Chloe.”

Her mother started, “Christ, Annie. Please don’t—“ 

“I KNOW WHAT I SAW! IT’S CHLOE! I’M NOT CRAZY, MUM! GOD, WHY WOULDN’T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?” she screeched.

“I believe you,” Dean said. 

“We believe you. Tell her, Cas,” Dean turned to Castiel.

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “You can trust us to keep you alive.”

That was how Annie began spilling all the details of Chloe’s death. These girls played a bad joke on poor Chloe and she died because of it. They dared her to play Bloody Mary and pretended that they saw flashes of a woman in mirrors and reflections all night. Chloe was already very scared because she couldn’t see anything in the dark but her friends made her believe otherwise. They even spun a tale about how the person to summon Bloody Mary would not be able to see her until it was time to die. They convinced her that Bloody Mary would suck her blood until her body was left with no fluid at all. Dean of course knew this wasn’t true because he had personally dealt with the ghost. But poor Chloe didn’t. So, when Ellen –the first victim with a missing heart- dressed herself in a white, torn Halloween costume and powdered herself until she looked pale as a ghost and shocked her, the girl had a cardiac arrest. She was literally scared to death. By the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late. The girls kept it a secret and never mentioned what frightened Chloe.

“We didn’t mean to. It was a joke,” Annie cried.

Dean could never fathom what was so funny about supernatural beings. He could never understand why people would go out of the way to challenge things they knew nothing about. If Dean didn’t personally trap Bloody Mary in a mirror all those years back, these girls would have gotten killed anyway. 

“Vengeful spirits, they can’t stick around without tying themselves to something. Chloe was cremated. Do you have anything of hers?”

“No. I can’t say I do,” Annie answered solemnly.

“What are you talking about? Are you out of your mind?” Mrs. Parker directed the question to Dean.

_Oh, shut up!_

It took Dean a substantial amount of self control to keep his thoughts inside. All his life, he has been fighting to save lives, fighting monsters and fighting for people’s trust. And honestly, the last seemed the hardest to do. People simply would not entertain the idea of not knowing shit. Even in moments like this, -when not believing means not living- they still can’t let someone else take the wheel.

“Dean,” Castiel called. 

When Dean turned to look at him, Castiel pointed to the door and declared, “He’s silent.”

Which was true. Mr. Parker who had been banging on the door and cursing for so long was quiet. Which meant he was either dead or he was calling the cops. Dean opened the door slightly to hear him talking on the phone. 

“Yup, cops alright. Let’s get outta here.”

Dean and Castiel ran down the stairs and exited the house but not before convincing Annie to stay where she is and ordering her mum to make a salt circle around Annie’s bed. As defiant as Mrs. Parker had been, she did as told. Probably because some part of her was scared shitless that there may be some truth in all these insanities. Mr. Parker tried to stop the boys from running off but they were too quick for him. Dean sped down the road back to Chloe’s house.

*****

“Mrs. Wells, what happened to Chloe’s stuffs? Do you have anything with you?”

“No. Not any more. I gave away her clothes and books. Why?” she asked suspiciously.

Dean realised that in order to help Annie, he needed the absolute truth behind everything. He needed to find what’s keeping the soul tied to the world and there’s no one else who would have the slightest clue but Chloe’s mother. And honesty works both ways. So, he explained the situation to Mrs. Wells as briefly as he can and she looked shell-shocked. 

“You should leave,” she said as she walked to her front door.

“Mrs. Wells, I know this is hard to believe but you have to. This is a matter of life and death.”

“My Chloe was a sweet little girl. She would never hurt anyone,” she exclaimed.

“Oh God, listen to the crap I’m saying. This is bullshit! There is no such thing as ghosts,” Mrs. Well muttered to herself.

Dean opened his mouth to argue but Castiel interjected, “How sure are you, Mrs. Wells? Are you so certain that you are willing to risk a young girl’s life? Even after being aware that three girls are already brutally murdered?” 

Castiel then walked towards the woman that held the door open, indicating they should leave. He stood right in front of her and looked her in the eye.

“I am utterly unconcerned about what you believe in. However, I will not allow your indifference to cost another life,” he spoke in a quiet but threatening manner.

“You are going to cooperate or I will _make_ you,” Castiel said.

Mrs. Wells looked scared and she turned towards Dean as though pleading him to put a stop to this. Dean felt a little guilty and he would have told Castiel to back off if he wasn’t running out of time. He needed this lady to cooperate one way or another. So, he just stood and waited for her to break.

“I told you, I don’t have anything of hers,” Mrs. Wells cried.

Castiel took a step back to give the lady some breathing space.

“Do you know anyone who does? It could be anything. Any material she loved or was attached to,” Dean asked.

Mrs. Wells contemplated for a while and Dean could see the exact moment she thought of something by the expression on her face.

“What? What is it?” Dean inquired.

“A military tag. It was… it was my husband’s actually. She always wore it around her neck. To keep the memories of her father close.”

“What happened to the tag?”

“I… I hung it on a tree.”

“You what?” Dean asked. 

He was sure he must have heard her wrong.

“There’s this one tree in the woods that my husband once carved all our initials. We used to go camping there. I hung it on the tree.”

“Okay. Okay, then let’s go. You must know where it is, right?”

“No. I’m not coming with you. This is ridiculous. You’re insane and--” her words got caught in her throat when she met Castiel’s eyes again.

Dean just walked towards the door and said, “Please. This once. Just... help us.”

She then walked out with Dean as Castiel shut the door and followed right behind.

*****

The drive was quiet other than the sniffling of Mrs. Wells. Dean was all strung up and riding on an adrenaline rush. Castiel just stared out the window.

“What are you going to do?” Mrs. Wells broke the silence.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as he looked at her from the rear view mirror.

She didn’t answer. She broke into sobs again and Dean just assumed what she meant.

“We’ll destroy the tag. Light it up or something. That should do the trick.”

“And if it’s really Chloe, what would happen to her?”

“She would…” Dean cleared his throat before saying solemnly, “She’d be gone. Permanently.”

“You mean you’re going to kill her?” Mrs. Wells cried out in a high-pitched tone.

“No. She’s already… you know, she’s already dead. We’re putting her soul to rest.”

“Then what? Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying this. But can’t you just let her come home to me?”

“She can’t, Mrs. Wells. I’m so sorry. But she’s not the same any more. She’s a vengeful spirit now. A tortured soul. You have to let her go. She’ll go to a better place.”

“Like where?” Mrs. Wells asked.

“Heaven…” Dean said quietly.

_Or hell._

He didn’t complete his sentence. He had to believe she had been good enough to earn her place in Heaven. He noticed that Castiel’s head immediately turned at the mention of Heaven but didn’t say anything about it.

Mrs. Wells just huffed out and chuckled bitterly as she shook her head. She was still pretty certain that she climbed into a car with two delusional maniacs.

*****

“There. That tree. I left it on the lowest branch,” Mrs. Wells pointed.

_What the hell? How the fuck am I supposed to find a tag here?_ , Dean wondered exasperatedly.

The surroundings were almost pitch black as the moonlight had been covered by tall trees from the place they were standing. The only light came from the two torch lights Dean and Castiel held, shining on the tree bark to illuminate the old carvings. Dean held the torch light between his teeth and tried to focus the light on the branches as his hands searched for the tag. The only good thing was that the tree was quite short in comparison to the rest. And it stood in the middle of an empty place as the rest of the trees were concentrated away from this one particular tree. That should explain why people would camp here. This tree had about 80 to 100 metres radius of dry ground beneath. When Dean couldn’t find the tag, he directed the torch light to the ground as his eyes searched for any metal on the ground.

“What are you doing? I hung it on the tree,” Mrs. Wells reaffirmed.

“Maybe it fell off,” Dean answered.

“No. I tied the chain to the branch. It can’t have fallen off. Give it to me,” she grabbed the torch light. “Let me look.”

Just as she stood tip-toe to scan the lower branches, Castiel heard a ruffling noise.

“Dean,” he called.

Dean heard it too so he looked in the direction where Castiel pointed the light. They heard the twigs creak, this time the noise was closer.

“Mrs. Wells, you should hurry up,” Dean whispered as he grabbed the iron crowbar he brought with him into the woods. 

Next to the crowbar, he had a can of petrol. He almost knocked it over but quickly placed it upright again. Just then, Dean heard a choked up noise like someone wheezing. Dean tugged on Castiel’s trench coat and stood in front of him as he carefully manoeuvred closer to the lady who have now found the tag but had troubles untying the chain.

“Mrs. Wells…” Dean called again.

“Will you stop pressuring me? I’m untying the knot,” Mrs. Wells said indignantly. 

Castiel moved closer to her and said gravely, “You might want to speed up.”

“For the love of God, what’s your problem? I’m trying my best.”

“We’re not alone, Mrs. Wells,” Castiel uttered as he saw the colour drain from her face.

She had been unaware of the noises up until Castiel mentioned it. And then, she heard a sharp wheezing noise. She turned around to see a very pale, ghastly looking figure in pyjamas. The same pyjamas that Chloe wore the night she died. She shone the light on the figure to watch it hiss at her and it struck her. That was Chloe alright. Sickly and white as a sheet but her Chloe nonetheless. 

And the figure launched itself towards Dean as he shouted, “QUICK!”

She couldn’t move an inch as she watched Dean swing the crowbar at the figure and it vanished like smoke. Castiel pushed Mrs. Wells away and grabbed the branch that the chain hung from. With a violent twist, he broke the branch and held it out to Dean. Dean quickly poured petrol on it as he lighted up matches and set it on fire. They watched the tag melt away.

*****

But then, they heard it again. This time, a blood-curdling shriek. And Mrs. Wells stared with her hand pressing against her mouth as she tried to stop herself from screaming. As the fire danced in front of her, the vengeful spirit seized Dean from the back, climbed on top of him as it shrieked and plunged its hand into his chest. Mrs. Wells couldn’t move as she screamed and watched Dean writhing in agony as Chloe’s sharp nails and fingers dug further in and disappeared. She watched his blood gush out from the holes in his chest as Chloe repeatedly stabbed her fingers in. This isn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. She was supposed to get them the tag and they’d destroy it and she’d go home and put this night behind. She wasn't supposed to see anything crazy. Nobody was supposed to die. And sure as hell, nobody was supposed to be violently ripped apart by her own daughter. She couldn’t look away, she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t even scream any more. 

She could faintly hear the man on the ground choke out, “It’s not the tag. Cas.”

She could hear the other man screaming, “DEAN!” as he ran towards him and got clawed on the face by her once-upon-a-time sweet little girl. 

And despite the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, she could hear the agony as the man -who was previously introduced as Eddie Moscone and now reacted to the name Cas- threw himself back towards the shell of her daughter screaming “DEAN!”only to be slashed again on his own chest. She could see the blood spraying from the man named Dean and how the light in his eyes almost flickered out. And she stood like a statue, feeling her own heart get ripped apart from the mere sight of it.


	17. We'll Find A Way

**Think. Think! THINK!** , her mind urged.

_It could be anything. Any material she loved or was attached to._

_Light it up or something. That should do the trick._

_QUICK!_

_It’s not the tag._

Dean’s words rung in her head like a mantra. Just then, Castiel reached out to the iron crowbar and took a swing that would have landed hard on her daughter’s face had she still had a proper body. She smoked out again. Only to appear behind Castiel almost instantaneously, looking angrier than any wrath she had ever witnessed. The man took another swing. 

**Swing**

Her mind flashed back to an event that she remembered so fondly. The last time they went camping together as a family in this very place. Shortly after, her husband got deported and never returned home. That was the last time Chloe saw her father. She was 11 years old. Her father helped her climb up and down this tree. She even tried to swing on one of the branches but it broke and she fell down. Her father had kissed the bruises of her knee and elbow and promised to get her a proper swing. He never did. He never had the time. And right before they left, Chloe and her father carved all their initials on the tree so that they could always come back to the same spot. 

Mrs. Wells remembers Chloe saying, _”This is my tree,”_ as she hugged the tree. After her husband passed away, Chloe would sometimes walk into the woods after school to visit the tree.

**That’s it!** , Mrs. Wells mind-voice supplied helpfully. 

She ran across to seize the petrol can from the ground when Castiel took another swing at the ghost that kept manifesting around him. She splashed the petrol on the tree bark just as Chloe appeared in front of her. Mrs. Wells could hear the groan Castiel made as he pushed himself on his feet to run to her.

“Mama. How could you?” Chloe hissed.

If Chloe just stood there silently, Mrs. Wells might not have had the heart to burn the tree down and her daughter along with it. She might have stood still and cried instead. But the way the words rolled out of Chloe’s mouth acted as a harsh reminder that she isn’t her daughter any more. That this is a monster, imitating her daughter. The way she hissed sounded so venomous that Mrs. Wells could feel a shudder running through her body. She moved backwards to bend and pick up the match box when Chloe vanished and reappeared right before her with her hand curled around her neck.

“How… could… you?” Chloe wheezed out.

“You’re not my daughter!” Mrs. Wells screamed and felt the hand grip her neck tighter.

She choked out what she thought was her last words. 

“Tree. The tree.”

And all she heard was the sound of the matches striking the box and a screeching noise that made her teeth tingle. She watched as the phantom caught on fire and burnt in an orange glow into nothingness. And she turned her head to find the tree that she once loved, all the beautiful memories of her family burst into flame and crackled to its demise. All she has now are remnants of what used to be, glowing in the dark before her and the soreness of her neck to remind her of what just took place right before her very eyes. 

Her thoughts came to a halt as she heard the man scream, “DEAN!”

He ran to Dean’s side and Mrs. Wells watched as he cradled Dean’s head and cupped his cheek with the palm of his hands. Dean just whimpered as he was so obviously in excruciating pain. Castiel just stared intently at Dean. For a second, Mrs. Wells thought he was about to kiss Dean or something. The intensity of the gaze made her flush. She was about to turn away, not wanting to intrude the intimate moment. 

So, she was flustered when Dean huffed, “Cas… You’re doing it again.”

Castiel abruptly seized his hand from Dean’s face as though the touch seared him. Mrs. Wells watched as his face twisted into a pained, sorrowful expression. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry… I can no longer heal you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I know. It’s okay,” Dean said as he rolled to his side, still clutching his chest.

Mrs. Wells didn’t understand what that meant but she knew she assumed wrongly. 

**They’re not _together_ together. But sure as hell there’s something more disturbing about them. I mean, what kind of FBI are they? ** , she wondered.

But she didn’t voice it out because she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know what he meant by not being able to heal. For all she knows, these men could still be lunatics. However, they did save Annie’s life and possibly her own.

“I think we should go to the hospital,” Mrs. Wells said as she knelt before Dean.

“Yeah, good idea,” Dean choked out as he held out his hand so that Castiel could pull him up.

Castiel immediately slid an arm around Dean’s waist while Dean put his arm around Castiel’s shoulder to force himself to stand. He tried to balance himself and ended up leaning heavily against Castiel as he was practically dragged out of the woods to his car. Upon reaching, Dean took out his key from his jeans pocket and moved towards the driver’s seat while gripping the top of the Impala tightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Wells questioned.

“Driving us to the hospital.” He coughed and wheezed a little as he said, “You gotta give me directions. Sit in front.”

“You can’t drive in this condition,” Mrs. Wells reproved.

“Then, what? He can’t drive.”

Mrs. Wells crossed her arms over her chest and uttered, “I can.”

“Oh no. Not gonna happen. I don’t let anyone drive my car.”

“You let Sam drive,” Castiel supplied helpfully.

“Cause I trust Sam,” Dean said.

He then turned to look at Mrs. Wells, “No offence.”

“I don’t care about your sentiments right now. If you pass out while driving, you’ll be risking our lives too. And I can’t let that happen. So, give me the damn keys,” Mrs. Wells reprimanded.

Dean was about to argue but he had to agree that he was in a lot of pain and if he fainted while driving, he’d kill all of them. 

Upon seeing him hesitate, Mrs. Wells added, “Or we could call the ambulance. Your choice.”

“No. Hell no. I’m not leaving my baby here.”

He shoved the key into her hands. 

“Drive carefully or help me God…”

“I’ve had enough of your threats for a day. Get in already!” she said indignantly as she got in the car.

She had seen so much for one day. Lost too much. She wasn’t about to put up with his shit. She was furious because if she wasn’t, she’d probably break down into a crying mess. And she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. So, she focused on the road ahead and drove to the hospital while Dean sprawled out on the back seat and Castiel rode shotgun. 

*****

To Dean’s relief, she reached the hospital without damaging the car. They lied about the wounds. Bear attack, they said. Which would mean the next morning, rangers would be hunting down a non-existent bear in the woods. The doctor stitched up Dean’s wounds and the deep cuts on Castiel’s chest. They spent the night in the hospital. Mrs. Wells took a cab back home after parking the car and returning the keys to Dean. He was already fast asleep so she left without saying anything.

The minute she stepped into her house, she shut the door and leaned against it as she wept. She knew what she witnessed but it was still too much to accept. In a matter of a day, she had destroyed everything that served as remembrance of her husband and child. And what was worse was the way her thoughts about her daughter were tainted with fear and bitterness. How could she think of her darling little girl the same way after seeing the blood-craving tormented version of her? She had to keep reminding herself that the Chloe she knew and the Chloe she faced today aren’t the same people. That death had its way of twisting a kind soul into an abomination. She held her family portrait tight against her chest and cried herself to sleep that night.

*****

Dean and Castiel got themselves discharged the next day. Dean found his keys on the bed next to him with a note that said, “Parking Lot G-12.” The pain was still unbearable but he’d rather go back home than spend his time healing in the hospital. He drove Castiel and himself to the motel room where they changed into clothes that were not drenched in blood and called Sam to let him know that they’re okay. They packed their bags and left. 

Dean then drove to Annie’s house and while Mr. Parker screamed bloody murder, he calmly informed Mrs. Parker that Annie is safe now. They’ve gotten rid of the spirit. Mrs. Parker –as difficult as it was- had to believe them as she saw the bruises and cuts on their faces. Castiel had a bandage on his face from getting slashed. She confusedly thanked them nonetheless and closed the door. Dean didn’t know if she believed them or not and quite frankly, he didn’t care.

He got into the Impala and turned to Castiel.

“Back home, then?”

“Yes. But can we please stop by Mrs. Wells’ house? I would like to apologise for being unpleasant. And thank her for saving us.”

Dean smiled fondly because Castiel was right. If it wasn’t for Mrs. Wells, they’d probably be dead.

Dean knocked on the door twice and was about to knock the third time when the door opened abruptly. There stood the petite woman, with bags under her eyes, her hair a mess and unrelenting sadness etched on her face.

“Oh not you again,” she said.

“Don’t worry. We’re leaving." Dean said with a smile as he held up his car keys, "Hmmm… thank you.” 

“I’m not _that_ bad a driver, you know?,” she sneered.

Castiel stood next to Dean and looked her in the eye as he said, “I apologise for being harsh to you.”

He reached out and held her hand gingerly.

“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Wells.”

The woman was taken aback by the kindness in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes. This wasn’t the same man she faced yesterday. The man she met yesterday was unrelenting. A soldier. Now, he seemed compassionate. He seemed like a changed person. Could she blame him? After everything that happened, she knew that she had changed herself.

“Thank _you_. Both of you.” She hesitated before she spoke again. “You think my daughter would be in a better place?”

“Yes. She is at peace now,” Dean said reassuringly.

“How could you be so sure?” she asked.

“Well, we can only hope. It’s all we’ve got.”

Mrs. Wells just nodded solemnly. 

“We’re leaving now. You take care,” Dean said as he offered a squeeze on her shoulder.

He then turned and walked away. 

Castiel uttered, “Stay strong, Mrs. Wells.”

He followed Dean behind but they both stopped on their tracks when she called out.

“Wait. Just answer me this. You guys are not FBI, are you?”

“Nope,” Dean smirked.

“Then, who are you?”

“Nobody important.”

“And this is what you do for a living? Get rid of ghosts?”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“I mean, we don’t exactly get paid for it. And it’s not just ghosts. Sometimes, werewolves, ghouls, wendigos, vampires… You get the picture.”

“All those are real?”

“I hate to shatter your outlook on life but yup. They’re as real as it gets.”

It was her turn to smirk this time. “And you claim you’re not important.”

She watched as the boys climbed into the car and drove away. She took a deep breath and walked into her house. She picked up the paper she left next to the phone a week ago. Scrawled on it was the phone number of the man who worked in the bakery across the street. He had been a distant friend for a year and a half. He offered his phone number after hearing the sad news about her daughter. 

_”You need a shoulder to cry on, a friend or anything at all, you call me, Angela. Any time of the day.”_ she recalled him saying. 

She never exactly thought to give him a call but she figured that if monsters do exist, she might as well seize the day. Life is short, after all. With that in mind, she dialled the number nervously. 

*****

Dean had been driving for about two hours with nothing but AC/DC to accompany him. Castiel just stared intently outside the window the way he usually did.

“Cas,” Dean said cautiously.

“Hmmmm…” was all he got for a response.

“Thank you.”

That got Castiel to turn.

“For what?”

“For trying to heal me.”

He watched as Castiel’s face quickly contorted to something else. Something that resembled pain.

“Cas?”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I forgot I couldn’t heal you. I just…”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. Really. I’m just… I mean, you tried. That’s all that matters.”

“I would disagree with you, Dean but I am too jaded to argue right now.”

That earned a chuckle from Dean that soon turned into a groan of pain as his wounds stung.

“And Cas?” 

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m glad you’re here. Just wanted you to know. Since you asked yesterday,” he sputtered out awkwardly. 

But he was glad that he got that off his chest. At least he wouldn’t be giving Castiel another reason to take off again. And he couldn’t help but return the gesture when Castiel smiled at him.

"By the way, I take back what I said. You're awesome at playing bad cop." 

Castiel just grinned in delight.


	18. Some Nights Are Cruel

“What the hell? DEAN!”

As soon as Dean parked the Impala in front of the bunker, he could hear the ruffling of footsteps and the door being yanked open. And the very next moment, when he stumbled out of the car, he was greeted with Sam’s unnecessary panic attack.

“Were you waiting by the window or something? That’s creepy, man!” Dean said casually.

Sam walked hurriedly -which given his current state of health, not that fast- towards him. Dean tried to balance himself by holding on to the car. Sam could see he was hurt. He could see it in the way he hunched a little. He could see Dean’s knuckles were white where he gripped on the Impala like he was hanging off a cliff. He could hear it in the way his breath hitched when he spoke and the way he knitted his eyebrows when he chuckled a little. He was in pain. Sam’s eyes scanned him up and down but he couldn’t find any obvious damage. However, when Castiel climbed out of the car, Sam could see the extent of the damage. His face was bandaged one side and all Sam could think about was that one time Castiel shaved the skin off his face. Castiel held on to his one arm that was plastered as though it hurt to let it dangle.

He said with a small smile, “Hello, Sam.” 

Castiel wore a white t-shirt and Sam could see the way his chest looked puffed up. He could see the thick cotton cast underneath his t-shirt. And Sam noticed all these in matter of minutes. He would pride himself in knowing his brother well and being able to read Castiel easily now that he’s not as expressionless as he used to be. But it wasn’t the time for it. Not when Sam felt a knot forming in his stomach. So, he let it out the only way he knew how. By getting furious.

“You told me you were okay. The last time you called, you said you were fine. So was Cas.”

“We _are_ fine. We’re back home, aren’t we?” Dean said.

“No, Dean. Being fine means not looking like you just battled a shitload of demons. Being fine means you’re not hurt.”

“You said you were fine too on the phone. Look at you. You still look like shit.”

“Well, this is the best I’m ever gonna be!”

“Sam, can we not? I just drove for 13 hours straight. I’m tired.”

Dean pushed himself off the car and walked slowly towards the bunker. Castiel walked over to Dean’s side and balanced him on his shoulder. And Dean allowed it. For a second, Sam felt this negative feeling towards Castiel. He didn’t know how to put that feeling into words –more like he refused to acknowledge that burning irritation. He felt replaced. It wasn’t too long ago that he rode shotgun, hunted ghosts and came home with battle wounds. It wasn’t too long ago that he was the one to offer assistance when Dean was hurt. And Dean would refuse the help more often than not. Now, Castiel had effectively replaced him and Dean seemed to allow it. It wasn’t too long ago… Or maybe it has been too long. He tried to snap out of it because Castiel only has good intentions and it’s not his fault that Sam was rendered useless these days. So, he followed them and closed the door behind him. 

After Castiel helped Dean to sit on the nearest chair, he turned around to face Sam.

“Hello, Sam,” he said again as though he didn’t think Sam heard it the first time.

“Yes. Hello,” Sam said, trying hard not to sulk. 

_Oh come on, stop being a bitch! It’s Cas, for God’s sake._ , Sam scolded himself.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked with his head tilted to the side.

That really snapped Sam out of his self pity. Here’s Castiel, -looking like he had a fight with a chainsaw and lost- still asking Sam how he was feeling. Sam, who in his mind felt like he did nothing all day except sweeping the bunker and taking a break every 10 minutes to catch his breath. 

“I’m okay. How are you? Where did you get hurt?”

“I am physically not in my best form but otherwise, I am doing well,” Cas replied. “We got hurt in the woods behind Wells’ residence. I’m sorry, I am unaware of the name of the place.”

Sam had to smile a little at that. 

“I meant where in your body, Cas.”

“Oh. Sorry. My right arm, my chest and my face. Just cuts. The doctor patched me up.”

“And you, Dean?” Sam asked, feeling intensely worried and angry at the same time.

Dean shrugged it off. “No big deal, Sammy. I’m hungry. You got anything to eat?” 

Sam stood there, unmoving and glared at Dean.

Castiel answered instead, “He got five puncture wounds on his chest. They were deep but the doctor stitched him up too. He said that Dean’s heart and lungs are not damaged, so he is fortunate. He said if the organs were pierced, things would have been drastically worse. And his ribs are not fractured too. And the doctor said—“

“Okay, that’s enough, Cas. Jesus, you’re like an annoying nurse,” Dean interjected exasperatedly.

“I was only answering his question,” Castiel replied innocently which earned him a disapproving glance from Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said quietly, still uncertain on what to do to diffuse the tense situation between the brothers.

“Don’t need to apologise. It's not your fault that Dean's a jerk,” Sam muttered.

He expected Dean to shoot him back with a 'Bitch!' but when the older hunter said nothing, he walked into the kitchen and took out a box of pizza from the fridge. He also poured two cups of coffee from the pot that he made right before they arrived and brought it out to the living room. 

“Cold pizza’s all you’re getting for now,” Sam said and placed the box on the table.

“That will be adequate. Thank you,” Castiel said as he removed a slice. 

They ate in silence. Once they were done, Dean announced he was going to bed.

“Not until you tell me what happened,” Sam stated.

“I told you what happened. On the phone.”

“You told me it wasn’t a werewolf. It was a vengeful spirit. You told me it was Chloe and the case is settled.”

“Yeah…” Dean drawled. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“Don’t act dumb, Dean. I want the details. How Chloe died? What was she tied to? How you got hurt? You know, the details.”

Dean groaned. “I’m worn out, man. Ask Cas. I’m gonna crash.”

He then walked into his room and closed the door. Sam felt his irritation building and consuming his mind again. He couldn’t join in on the hunt, he wasn’t informed that they got hurt and now, Dean wouldn’t even take the time to tell him what happened. He could imagine how it would be in years from now -if not any sooner. If Sam doesn’t heal, then that’s it. He’s going to be left out, replaced and forgotten. He’d be sitting at home all day, waiting for these two to return home. He’d have to deal with them discussing cases without him. He’d get so bored, being unable to hunt and probably end up studying again. He’d probably go back to law school and be a lawyer. He’d probably move out of the bunker and get an apartment of his own. Normal life with normal people. Once upon a time, that was exactly the kind of life he dreamt of and would have killed to have. But now, he felt crappy just thinking about it. It’s one thing to retire from hunting to have that life. It’s another to be forced into that life because he’s no longer needed. And Sam knows it’s selfish of him to want to be needed. After all, he didn’t even look for his brother and instead, ended up in a destructively dependent relationship with Amelia to compensate for the loss. But more than ever before, he’s wishing he finished the trial. At least he would have done some good. 

He was dragged out of his thoughts when Castiel said, “I can tell you, Sam.”

“Tell me what?”

“If you still wish to know how it went down, I can tell you.”

“Yeah. Why not?” Sam answered solemnly.

*****

Dean sat on his bed and positioned himself to lie down without straining but failed. He fell on his back and felt the tug of stinging pain. He tried to take a breath to let the moment pass but the deeper he inhaled, the more his skin stretched and another stabbing ache shot through his body. So, he just lied on his bed, unmoving and held his breath until the pain subsided. It took a while but slowly, it faded enough to be just throbs. He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. He felt the wetness in the corners of his eyes as he unconsciously teared a little. It wasn’t much, just the sort of tears that gather in your eyes when a sudden burn racks your body.

He was exhausted from driving for so long and pretending it didn’t hurt as bad as it did. He had fingers as sharp as wooden stakes impaled in his body repeatedly. Sure it hurts like hell. But the physical pain is something he’s quite used to. He hasn’t been hunting for some time but he could never forget all those times the pain was a lot worse. Like when he got ripped into shreds by hell hounds. Or the time when Sam -worn by Lucifer- smashed his face until his bones shattered. Or the time when it was Castiel’s turn to be some angel’s marionette and slammed his fist on Dean’s face until he was disfigured. Sure he was healed both times but the pain was something he’ll remember for life. So, it doesn’t bother him that it hurts to lie down or bend or even breathe. It hurts because now isn’t the right time for it. 

Sam wants to take care of him. He can see the worry on his face clearly. But that makes him feel guilty. Dean’s the big brother. It’s his job to take care of the other. Especially these days since Sam just survived a near-death experience with the trials. So, he hates how he’s stuck in the predicament where he has to accept assistance instead of offering. Dean is used to giving, not taking. Being unable to give is like losing a purpose. Like he’s weak and useless. 

And it isn’t just Sam. He brought Castiel along and ended up getting him hurt too. However, if it wasn’t for Castiel setting the tree on fire, he would have been dead. So, he can’t feel too awful about bringing the former angel on a hunt. He just wished they’d stop looking at him like he just survived the apocalypse all over again.

*****

Castiel explained everything to Sam. He wanted Sam to not feel clueless. Because Castiel remembers how it felt when Dean wouldn’t share anything with him. He remembers the anger he felt. He wanted Sam to feel included. After hearing everything, Sam just nodded solemnly and said good night. They both went to bed in their respective rooms. Castiel lied down and accidentally turned to his side. He immediately laid flat on his back when both his arm and face stung with pain. He wasn’t used to prolonged pain. Back when he merely loaned this vessel, he healed so quickly that he hardly had to deal with pain. Not unless his Grace was also damaged. Then, it really hurt. It took some time to heal but only a couple of days at most. So, he has to get used to being human now. 

He felt a twinge of guilt as the incident replayed in his mind. The sound of skin being ripped where the nails made contact and the way blood gushed from Dean’s chest were sickening. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Dean beaten and battered. He has witnessed that one too many times than he likes to admit. Hell, he has even been the cause of it twice; once when he kicked Dean’s ass for wanting to give in to Michael and the second when Naomi played with his head. He can recall the way his nose and cheekbones crushed under the force of his hand. It was so easy to break him physically. He can recall the squelching sound his left eye made when Castiel punched him hard on it. He can recall many things he wishes never to remember again. 

However, this time the guilt was caused by the thought that if it had been Sam in his place, he would have done a better job of watching out for Dean. He would have figured out the object the spirit was tied to a lot quicker. He would have saved Dean from the physical trauma. At least if he was an angel, he could have healed Dean quickly after. It’s not like Dean wouldn’t have felt pain at all. Of course, despite healing fast, he would have felt the ghost of agony. But it would have been better than having to live with the pain. 

Castiel firmly decided that he’s going to take care of both the Winchesters until they heal. It’s the least he can do for them. He’s going to make himself useful to the brothers in whatever way he can. He may not be an angel anymore but he can still be their guardian.


	19. The World Could Do With Another Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took so long to update. Been caught up with writing other non-fandom related stuffs. Thank you for your patience.

Dean woke up feeling sore all over. His head pulsed as he pushed himself off the bed. It always hurt like hell the day after and Dean knows that from experience. So, he anticipated the throbbing pain. He slowly made his way to the bathroom where he took a shower with a plastic bag tied around his bandage. He had to change the wound dressing soon but he needed Sam for that. He wanted to do it by himself but it was difficult to tie a bandage tightly enough around his own abdomen. The thought of needing Sam to do things for _him_ instead of the other way around was enough to make him grumpy in the morning. He sauntered to the living room when he heard the clatter of plates. He then moved to the kitchen instead, expecting to find Sam. He looked over to find a lean figure with unruly black hair sticking out in all directions, crouching down to remove plates from the cabinet. 

“What you doin’, Cas?” 

He probably should have waited until Castiel stood up from where he was seated because the former angel banged his head on the cabinet as he pulled himself out of it. Dean couldn’t help but wince at that because it looked really painful. 

Castiel scrunched his eyes shut for a moment and breathed in, regaining his composure before he said calmly, “Hello, Dean.”

He still had his eyes closed as he rubbed the top of his head, messing up his already untidy hair.

“Ouch,” Dean said. “You okay?”

Castiel opened his eyes and looked over before uttering, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I was just startled by your presence is all.”

He then got up with three plates on his hand and proceeded to wash it without saying a word. Dean saw three freshly made sandwiches stacked on the cutting board. It immediately sent his mind reeling to the last time Castiel made sandwiches for them. He had lost his mind and seemed to give a whole lot of shit about bees and monkeys and cats. Dean remembers feeling angry and frustrated. He remembers wanting to slam Castiel against the wall, grab him by his trench coat and slap him back to reality. He also clearly remembers feeling scared. Afraid that Castiel was broken permanently. 

**_I can’t help. You understand? I can’t. I destroyed everything and I will destroy everything again_** , he recalled Castiel saying.

And he sure as hell didn’t stop at that. He destroyed heaven and apparently, is dealing with it pretty normally. 

_Wait a minute. What if he has gone bonkers again? What if we didn’t realise it? He’s making sandwiches again_ , Dean silently freaked out.

“What are you doing, Cas?”

He watched as Castiel transferred the sandwiches carefully without letting the contents spill over.

“I’m making sandwiches,” Castiel said casually.

“Yeah, I can see that. Why are you making sandwiches?”

Castiel turned around and smiled amusedly. 

He explained like he would to a child, “For breakfast, of course. ”

Dean rolled his eyes because Castiel didn’t understand what he was asking. Maybe it was his fault because he didn’t know how to ask. 

_Are you broken, Cas? Are you a fruitcake under the delusion that avoiding a mess will allow it to fix itself? Are you making sandwiches because you can’t find another way to deal with your past?_

Would that be appropriate to ask?

As though Castiel read his mind, he said, “I figured you will be too tired to drive out and buy breakfast. Unless you don’t like my sandwiches, we can all eat at home.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. He should give the former angel the benefit of the doubt. He’s probably only trying to make things better with the Winchesters. It’s going to take a while for Dean to completely trust Castiel again –if he could ever _completely_ trust. And truth be told, Castiel makes awesome sandwiches.

Sam walked into the kitchen just then and stared at the three plates that Castiel had stacked up in his arms as he approached the table. 

“Thank you. I’m starving,” Sam said before picking the triangular sandwich on his plate and taking a bite.

Dean wondered for a second if Sam doesn’t remember the first and only time before this that Castiel had ever made them food. Doesn’t it make Sam worried? Or is he just being paranoid? Well, somewhere deep down he knew that it was the latter. So, he didn’t voice out his concern and digged in too, appreciating the taste of ham. Castiel waited for them to eat with an expectant smile and upon registering the looks on the hunters’ faces as positive, he ate his part too. Everybody remained quiet as Dean read the newspaper and Sam stared at his laptop. 

Castiel cleared his throat to indicate that he was about to say something. But none of them responded. They didn’t even look up from where their eyes were glued.He tried again a little louder. 

Dean didn’t take his eyes of the newspaper but said, “Spill it already.” 

Sam just smirked a little before pushing the screen of his laptop down to face Castiel, to show that he had their attention.

Castiel cleared his throat again, nervously this time. He didn’t intend to get Dean to look at him. He just wanted to prepare himself to talk about what could be a rather sensitive issue to the older Winchester. 

But Dean just rolled his eyes before asking exasperatedly, “ _What_ , Cas?” 

“I just… I wanted to ask if you’d teach me how to drive your car.”

That got Dean’s attention. He put the newspaper down without folding it and stared at Castiel. 

The paranoid part of Dean questioned internally, _Why does he need to know how to drive? Is he planning to run off again?_

Another part of him that was sensible said, _How long are you planning to coop him up? If he doesn’t want to stay, he wouldn’t. You can’t stop him from leaving. You never could before._

Then, there was that egotistical side that retorted, _Well, who gives a shit anyway? He can leave if he wants._

And he shoved the only constituent of him that dared to be truthful against the deep dark corner of his mind and warned it to stay the fuck away. _You do, Dean. You give a shit. You need him to stay._

While he debated and tried to form different versions of how this situation could unravel, Castiel waited with wide eyes while Sam… Well, Sam stared at Dean. Not the malicious sort of stare or annoyed stare. But rather the **_’If I try hard enough, I can see right through you’_** stare. 

And _that_ snapped Dean out of it.

“Why?”

“I would like to know how to drive a car.”

“Yeah, why is that? Why now all of a sudden?”

_If he ever runs off with my baby, I will track him down and skin him alive._ Well, this part of Dean, this part is quite truthful too. He might not skin him alive but he’d do something dangerously close to it.

“I want to be of assistance. If we ever get hurt again, I can drive us back here. Or if you ever get tired, I can take over for a while. You wouldn’t have to do it all by yourself,” Castiel answered.

Before Dean could get a word out –although he didn’t necessarily know what he intended to say-, he could see Sam bristle from the corner of his eyes.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sam said calmly.

Calm before the storm. But Dean could read Sam just as well and he heard what was unsaid. 

_That’s my job. Not yours._

“Yes, Sam. But I’m just concerned that if you can’t go with us in the next hunt, we should be more prepared than we were this time.” Castiel looked at Dean. “We will not always be so fortunate to have someone to assist us like Mrs. Wells did, I’m afraid.”

Again, Dean opened his mouth and shut it when Sam started.

“Well, don’t worry about it then. Cause I’m coming the next time.”

“What?” Dean asked bewildered.

“What? You don’t expect me to sit around here forever, do you?” Sam shot back.

“No, but you’re not quite there yet.”

“And you almost died. So, fuck it! I’m back on the job.”

“Sam… Don’t need to rush into it, okay? You need to give yourself a break, man.”

“You need to stop treating me like an invalid,” Sam said, his face flushed with anger that he fought to keep his voice steady.

Castiel felt uncomfortable watching the brothers on the brink of fighting. 

He tried to diffuse the situation. “I believe your brother does have a point, Sam. You should—“ 

“And you need to stay out of this,” Sam very nearly shouted at Castiel.

“I... I just thought—“

“NOBODY ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION!” Sam shouted this time as he pushed his chair so forcefully that it tipped over only to be caught in time by Dean.

He stormed off then. Dean was fighting a concoction of rising anger, frustration and irritation right at that moment but he definitely felt better than Castiel if the shocked expression on his face was any indication at all. He watched as Castiel kept staring towards the corridor that Sam just threaded with his mouth slightly open.

“Cas,” Dean called out softly.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as he slowly turned to Dean.

“No need to apologise—“

“I only intended to help. I didn’t mean to offend Sam.”

“I know. He’s just having his time of the month. Don’t mind him,” Dean said as he collected all their dishes.

He glanced at Castiel to find his head tilted -the way he does when he doesn’t understand something.

“I mean, he’s having a rough time. Just let him be. He won’t stay mad for long.”

Castiel stood up and said, “Let me do the dishes.”

“No, I can handle this. Go watch TV or something.”

“It’s okay, Dean. I can—“

“I said I got this. Go, Cas.”

With that, Castiel slowly walked over to the couch where he sat staring at the blank screen without turning it on. 

_Why do I always mess up?_ he wondered.

Sam, on the other hand, paced his room angrily because he knew what he did was uncalled for. It’s usually Dean who reacts that way, who walks off from a conversation. Not Sam. All this while, he prided himself of being the more sensible brother, the peace keeper between Dean and Castiel. But somehow, he handled the situation like a sulking 15 year old who thought life was unfair because he had to miss a party. The thing is, Sam knows. He knows Castiel is offering to help because he feels pretty crappy. He just brought down heaven almost single-handedly. He has a lot to pay for and quite frankly, none of that is going to wash away the guilt. Sam knows because he has tried. He knows because he has been in Castiel’s place, trying to do everything he can to make himself useful. But he also knows that he isn’t done with his part and hates that Castiel seemed to fit in so easily and replace him. Every skill that Castiel learns is one more reason as to why Sam wouldn’t be needed. And he knows that is selfish of him but he has spent all his life being needed by Dean that the thought of not having that assurance hurts. It’s like the time Dean would rather hang out with Benny. 

_**Benny's been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been!** _

Dean words seared into his mind and he could never get over it. He understands now that Dean picked Sam over Benny. He appreciates it. But there’s a part of him that is still pissed that he should even have to compete with a _vampire_ in the first place. It’s selfish. Sam wouldn’t lie to himself. He knows that Dean thinks he picked Ruby over his brother. But it wasn’t like that. Not from how Sam sees it. It wasn’t a matter of who he trusted more because there is absolutely no one he’d put before Dean. It was the matter of who he faced in the battle. He had to destroy Lilith. That bitch had ripped Dean into shreds right before his very eyes. The urge to smite her was as bad as his father’s obsession to smite Azazel. That and also his need to believe that he could fight the disease coursing through his veins. That maybe if he stopped Lilith from breaking the seal, he wouldn’t be a monster after all. He was afraid of what he’d turn out to be, afraid that no one could save him. So, when Ruby seemed to offer a way out, one that he could take to save himself and the world, he had to try. Nobody else had an idea on how to stop the apocalypse. And she seemed to be a glimmer of hope. He just had to believe that he could fix it. He honestly only did what he did out of good intentions but that didn’t matter as soon as he found out that he literally brought hell on earth. 

Okay, Sam screwed up. He is man enough to admit that. And he is also man enough to apologise for that. He had been pacing in his room for more than an hour and that to him, is as childish as it gets. He made his way downstairs to find Dean removing the first aid kit from the cabinet. 

_Oh, the dressing. I forgot,_ Sam thought.

There it was, his opportunity to apologise without needing to voice it out loud. He grabbed the kit from Dean’s hand and told him to lie on the couch.

“You sure you’re not gonna pour acid on my wound?” Dean asked jokingly.

“Did I make my intentions so obvious?” Sam retorted. 

So, he sat on the coffee table and arranged the kit while Dean removed his gray Henley shirt, wincing at the stretch. Sitting on the single couch on his left was Castiel, staring intently at them both. Dean understood the apology -action speaks louder than words when it comes to the Winchesters. But Castiel still held himself like he expected Sam to turn around and spear his thigh with the small scissors in the kit. Sam walked over to the sink to wash his hands thoroughly with soap while Dean began peeling off the dressing. He returned with a trash bag and a small bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Since when do we have hand sanitizer?” Dean questioned.

Sam didn’t answer. He tried to keep one in his bag whenever they went on a hunt. Their jobs most of the time involves dealing with a lot of bodily fluid or rotting corpse. He doesn’t have it with him at all times but whenever they drop by the pharmacy to buy painkillers, he gets himself a bottle. Because Sam is perfectly sensible and hygienic and cares about his health. But Dean being the 5 year old he is will make fun of it. Sam knew it was coming so he kept quiet and braced for the mockery when he sat on the coffee table again.

“Such a princess, Sammy,” Dean laughed before wincing in pain.

“Owww…” Dean breathed.

“That’s what you get for being a jerk,” Sam retorted.

Dean sat up a little and reached out to the stab wounds on his chest. 

“Don’t touch it,” Sam warned.

Dean could see Castiel stretching his neck from where he was seated to inspect the wounds.

Sam carefully tossed the old dressing into the trash bag. He then began to clean the wound, retracting his hand every time Dean grunted in pain. 

“Jesus, you trying to kill me, Sam?” Dean hissed when Sam prodded the wound a little.

“Yeah. Trying and failing since you’re still complaining like a bitch,” Sam dead panned.

“Asshole!”

“Will you stop squirming? I’m checking for signs of infection,” Sam said as he dabbed the cotton at the wound again.

“How do you do that?” Castiel asked curiously but retreated when Sam looked at him.

Another opportunity struck to apologise without having to say it. 

“You check for any redness or swelling around the wound. Or if there’s any change in colour of the skin around it. And foul odours too. If you have any of that, then it’s probably infected. You gotta go to the hospital. Dean here, is clear,” Sam said with the last dab of antiseptic.

He then put on the new dressing as Dean sat upright.

Dean sat back on the couch and took a deep breath to make sure the dressing wasn’t too tight to cut his air flow. Sam slid to the end of the coffee table and turned to face Castiel. 

“Your turn,” he said as he poured a generous amount of sanitizer on his hand.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you,” Castiel said softly.

“No dude, you gotta change that thing. If not, the wound gets infected. And trust me, it’s nasty. You don’t want that,” Dean said.

Sam slowly turned Castiel’s face to the side so he could peel off the bandage. Castiel hissed as the tape pulled at his skin. Sam then repeated the entire procedure on his face, his arm and his chest. Considering that Castiel had more areas of injury, -although not as severe as Dean’s- it took Sam a lot of time and patience to change the dressing.

“There you go. We’re done,” Sam informed as he tied the trash bag tightly. Dean arranged the items back in the kit while Sam went to the sink to dispose the bag and wash his hands.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said with a small smile. “And sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to—“

Dean interjected, “Cas.”

Dean made a face to indicate to Castiel to just drop the subject but Castiel –being the lost deer that he is- just stared with wide eyes at Dean, trying to understand but failing miserably.

“How bout we learn to shoot first?” Sam offered.

If they’re going to live together and hunt together, then Sam should accept Castiel as the addition to the Winchester family and teach him all the tricks he knows.

Both Castiel and Dean turned around to stare at Sam now.

“What? You can’t depend solely on angel blade, Cas. Handling guns is more important than driving for now,” Sam explained.

Castiel had an indulgent smile plastered on his face.

“Yes. I should acquire shooting skills. Thank you.”

Sam just nodded as he continued washing the soap off his hands. Dean walked past him to the fridge and took out three bottles of beer. As he always does, he removed the cap and passed one to Sam with a pat on his shoulder. Well, Sam always wanted a little brother. Castiel may be older than the existence of mankind itself but he’d do for now.


	20. Shoot To Thrill

Castiel had spent the day reading the instruction manual on how to handle a gun. It’s an old one, stored in the library. It must have belonged to the Men of Letters. But Sam had been nice enough to ransack the library to find him the small book. Theoretically, Castiel should be able to shoot a gun with precision after reading it. So, he made a beeline to Dean who lay sprawled on the couch, watching TV.

“Dean, I have successfully completed this book. You can teach me to shoot now,” Castiel said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, okay. Later,” Dean said, still staring at the TV screen.

“Dean!” Castiel moved to block his vision.

“Move, Cas. I’m watching Dr. Sexy.”

“Isn’t it more important that you teach me how to fire a gun than watching this? Dr. Sexy will not be of any assistance to you when facing supernatural beings,” Castiel said exasperatedly.

“Shut up. And move. Or I’ll fire a gun right here, right now with you being the target.”

Castiel huffed in annoyance as he stepped away. He was just too damn excited about learning something new that he couldn’t wait another day. After all, they had their own firing range in the bunkers. This wasn’t like the times when Dean made him try new flavours of pies and new clothes. Although being human and needing food for sustenance, he has learnt to appreciate good food. But this was a skill. This was something that would give him the power he lost. Okay, firing a gun is nowhere close to riding high on angel mojo. But this would give him an advantage and increase the extent of his usefulness. That way, he wouldn’t feel so weak.

“Dean--” he tried again.

Dean turned around to look at Castiel pointedly and said, “Cas. I meant it when I said I’d shoot you. Go and find Sam if you’re gonna act like you got ants in your pants.”

Castiel made his way to Sam’s room. He had been taking a nap but Castiel assumed that an hour and a half should be enough. He knocked on Sam’s door repeatedly –and very annoyingly- until he heard Sam groan.

Dean called out from the living room, “You keep doing that, Cas, watch how fast you’d hit the floor when he punches your face.” 

Castiel stopped just then because there was no telling what the Winchesters were capable of when you piss them off.

Sam yanked the door open and glowered at him. Castiel just swallowed and waited. Good for him he had a pitiful expression on his face so Sam caved in. 

He ran a hand over his face before asking tiredly, “What, Cas?”

That got Castiel bouncing off the walls again. 

“I finished reading the manual, Sam. You can teach me how to fire a gun now.”

“That fast? You sure you read the manual or are you bullshitting me?”

“I have what you’d call an eidetic memory. I still retained that ability despite falling. I can read and digest information quite fast.”

“Oh, really?” Sam walked to the kitchen to get a drink. “That will help with research.”

Dean snorted and said, “You shouldn’t have mentioned it, Cas. He’s gonna make you read all the books in the library and keep you close like an iPad.”

“I do not know what an iPad is but I am sure I would not mind, Dean. Always happy to help the Winchesters,” Castiel beamed.

“You know, Dean, it didn’t cross my mind until you pointed it out. Good idea though,” Sam said as he downed the glass of water. 

“Now, Sam. Shall we start the lesson?” Castiel asked.

Dean just chuckled when he caught Sam exchanging a look of resignation. 

Sam sighed, “Yeah. Why not?”

*****

Sam inserted the magazine into the semi-automatic handgun and pointed towards the target. He was secretly pleased to see that his hands didn’t shake as badly as it did the last time he was here. He must be regaining strength. Just as he was about to pull the trigger to test that theory, Castiel held his forearm. Sam lowered the gun and turned sideways to look at Castiel.

“You are not following proper safety protocol, Sam. You must wear earmuffs and safety goggles,” Castiel said with a serious expression.

Sam was torn between laughing at Castiel and crying for himself because he could already sense that this lesson would be long and tiring.

“Do you see us wearing earmuffs when we fight demons?” Sam asked teasingly.

Castiel mouthed an _Oh!_ and removed his hand from Sam’s.

“When you pick up the gun, you keep your finger off the trigger. Let it rest outside the trigger guard.”

He glanced at Castiel who was contemplating what he said for a moment.

“Like this, Cas. Okay?,” Sam demonstrated instead of telling.

“Yes. I got it.”

Sam pointed the gun at the target again.

“Which is your dominant hand?”

“I am ambidextrous.”

“Whoa. That’s cool. Then you can use any hand you prefer. Or shoot two guns at a time if you’re skilled. You hold it like this. You can wrap one hand around the other side of the frame. It will help you steady the gun while you grip with your other hand. Make sure you hold it firmly.You read about the firing stance, right?”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Make sure you’re comfortable. Well, actually, fuck that. More often than not, you’d be in a crappy position when you pull the trigger. So I guess stance doesn’t really matter. Close one eye for alignment. If you’ve trained well, you can keep both eyes open. And you pull the trigger.”

With that, Sam pulled the trigger at a constant rate until he had emptied the gun. He was pleased with himself. It wasn’t his best record but it had improved tremendously than before. He then unloaded the gun and loaded another magazine.

“Here, your turn.”

Castiel very excitedly took the gun but was visibly cautious when he stood in the firing stance. Sam guided his hand and body until he was ready.

“Okay, fire.” Sam said.

With that, Castiel unloaded the gun. Sam was pretty impressed. His shots were consistent towards the right side of the target and he even got one in the bull’s eye.

“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Sam offered.

“Thank you,” Castiel said with a grin.

Which was all good except Castiel practised all day until he wore Sam out. Then, the next day, it was Dean's turn to teach. After four solid hours, Dean seized the gun from Castiel.

"You're gonna finish all the ammo, dude. It ain't cheap!" Dean said as he walked out and closed all the lights, forcing Castiel to leave the room.

Castiel had to admit that he enjoyed the thrill of firing a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any mistakes I've made in my assumptions of how to handle a gun.


	21. Is There Anybody Out There?

Dean was in the midst of showering while singing Highway To Hell when it suddenly struck him. 

He looked at the tattoo on his chest and shouted, “Sam! SAM!”

He heard hurried footsteps before Sam spoke from outside the bathroom, “What is it?”

“Anti-possession tattoo, man. Cas needs one.”

“Oh yeah. Shit. How did we forget that?”

“Exactly. Get him ready. Go give him a pep talk,” Dean said as he washed the soap off quickly.

“What?”

“Remember Kevin freaking out?”

“Hmmm… Yeah,” Sam said as he walked to the living room.

Castiel sat on the couch, watching Discovery Channel.

“What’s this?” Sam asked as he sat down next to Castiel.

“Extreme Engineering. This episode is about Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai. It is quite fascinating,” Castiel answered, still staring intently at the TV.

“Cas, what do you think about tattoos?”

“It is a form of art whereby you insert indelible ink into the dermis layer of the skin to change the pigment. It has been practised for centuries in many cultures among humans. You have one too.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna talk to you about,” Sam said awkwardly. “You gotta get one.”

“Anti-possession tattoo,” Castiel retorted.

“Yes. You don’t mind, right?”

“I was wondering when you would take me to get one.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, we can go once Dean comes out.”

*****

In the tattoo parlour, Dean stood next to Castiel as he laid on the seat with his shirt off. 

The tattoo artist took in the sight of Castiel’s bandaged parts of the body and commented, “Someone roughed you up?”

“Got in a fight,” Dean answered for him. 

“And where exactly do you want this tattoo?”

“Somewhere not so visible. His chest would be fine.”

“Have you seen his chest lately?” the man mocked. “Well, he’s got a little space here that I can ink but it’s close to the wound. Unless you want it elsewhere.”

“Here is fine,” Castiel answered.

“Suit yourself,” the man said as he got his equipments.

“This might hurt. Like a hot scratch,” Dean said to Castiel.

“I can handle it,” Castiel replied as the man approached him and sat on his seat.

“Yeah, just saying. Because Kevin couldn’t. He was crying throughout the process,” Dean laughed a little as he remembered how stoic Mrs. Tran was.

“I believe I have a high threshold of pain.”

And he was right. He didn’t as much as wince when the needle made contact. Instead he stared at the way the needle pierced his skin, leaving ink in its wake. He was enthralled by it. 

Halfway through it, Castiel jolted from his seat and the tattoo artist retracted his hand. 

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked.

“No,” Castiel said as he stretched his neck to look outside the parlour through the glass door.

Sam and Dean turned to follow his gaze but they saw nothing out of the ordinary.

A woman walked past with two children. A teenage boy peered through the glass to wave at the artist who waved back. An elderly man sat across the street on a bench, fiddling with his phone. 

“What is it?” Sam asked when he noticed Castiel looking startled.

“I don’t know. I thought I felt…”

“Felt what?” Dean asked his hand immediately resting on his lower back where he had his gun.

“It’s nothing. Sorry, I got distracted.”

The artist continued working on his skin. Once he was done, he handed Castiel a mirror so he could see his tattoo. Dean paid off the man while Castiel wore his shirt again. Castiel still looked a little out of it when he left with the hunters. They walked back to the Impala with Dean laughing about the photograph of a tattoo framed in the parlour. It was the human centipede from South Park. Castiel stopped in his tracks and looked around.

“Dean…” Sam tugged on his leather jacket and pointed at Castiel.

“What’s up, Cas? What are you looking for?” Dean asked, feeling anxious. 

“I don’t know. Something is different.”

“What is?”

“I said I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel snapped.

Castiel walked a few steps and stopped.

“Can you not feel it?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t,” Dean said. “Do you?”

“No…” Sam replied.

“The air shifted around us. It is a little denser now. Slightly harder to breathe,” Castiel said as he inhaled deeply.

“I’m fine actually,” Dean said.

“It’s cooler out here than earlier,” Sam provided. “That’s why the air is denser, Cas.”

“No, Sam. The air is cooler _around_ us. Look ahead of you. Does it not look like we are standing in a shadow? The sun isn’t shining on us. Now look up. There is nothing up there obstructing the sunlight. Something is coming,” Castiel said with a grave tone.

“We’re not taking chances. You packing, Sam?” Dean asked.

“Gun, yes. Nothing else.”

“You, Cas?” Dean asked.

“I have my blade.”

“Well, stay right here. I’m going to get holy water and salt.”

Dean ran off to the trunk of the car. He returned with a flask of holy water and a can of salt. He also had an iron crowbar in his hand.

“Is that necessary?” Sam asked.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Dean answered. “Was there any case near here?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Sam said.

“No. Whatever this is, it’s out for us. We’re being watched.”

Sam and Dean quickly turned on opposite sides and examined for any suspicious people. Everybody on the street went about their business and they were actually obstructing the pathway by standing where they stood.

“Maybe we should go back to the bunkers till we figure this out,” Sam said.

“We are being directed somewhere. We can’t return to the bunkers now.”

“I don’t feel any shit, Cas. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Call it an intuition,” Castiel answered as he walked and stopped right in front of an alley.

The hunters followed him.

“Can’t you feel that? That itch. That strong urge to keep going. That pull. Can’t you feel like something is calling?”

“No. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch.” Dean answered.

Sam shook his head indicating he felt nothing.

“I think it’s just me. This is _for_ me.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“You both should return to the bunkers. Leave me here.”

“What? No,” Dean said as though Castiel made a really stupid remark.

“In the parlour, it felt like I was being watched.”

“Could it be Metatron? Maybe he’s watching you,” Sam said.

Dean thought about it. “Yeah, could be that son of a bitch, watching you like the central character in a movie or some shit. He likes stories and you’re the only one who remembers any of it.”

“Maybe. You should go,” Castiel said.

“Hell no.”

“Go!” Castiel said sternly. “Leave me here!”

“Are you planning to take off again, Cas? Is that what this is about?” Dean felt a rush of blood to the head.

“What?”

“You tell me what. You’re getting all weird and forcing us to leave. What the fuck is up with you?”

“This feels dangerous, Dean. I have made many enemies over the years. Something could have escaped Purgatory. It might be after me. I’m going to find out what it is. You should return home,” Castiel answered, resignation clear in his voice.

“If something is after you, Cas, we’ll deal with it together,” Dean said.

“Yeah. You have us to back you up,” Sam supplied helpfully.

Castiel looked from one hunter to the other. 

“You have done enough for me. It is not fair to ask for more.”

“Tough. I’m not leaving here without you,” Dean uttered stubbornly.

With that, Castiel walked through the alley, his eyes searching for something hidden in the dark. The hunters followed right behind but they found nothing. It was an ordinary stinking alley with nothing but a few stray cats, a rusting metal door in one corner, a huge foul-smelling dumpster and disgusting water dripping from God-knows-where. After an entire hour of walking here and there, thoroughly examining the place, they gave up.

“There’s nothing here. Let’s just go back to the bunkers,” Dean said.

Castiel reluctantly agreed and followed the hunters back to the bunkers. As Dean drove, he couldn’t help but glance at Castiel who held his angel blade in his hands tightly and stared at it as though he willed himself to melt it with his glare. Sam kept quiet but he noticed the tension in the air. It was impossible not to.

As soon as they arrived, Castiel walked into his room and shut the door. 

Sam spoke in a hushed tone, “What on earth was that about?”

“I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean said hesitantly.

He pushed away the thought that kept prodding his mind.

_Cas must have lost it._


	22. Is There Anybody In There?

When Castiel woke up the next morning, he had to mentally prepare himself before he left the room because he was pretty sure that the hunters would bombard him with questions. He knew what he felt the day before. But he had no way of explaining it. He felt a force tugging at him towards the alley and he doesn’t know how to describe it. It was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch or ignore. It just felt like he had some other place to be, something to do. However, there is absolutely no way that he would say that to Dean. The older hunter seemed to lack faith and was pretty certain that Castiel was finding excuses to disappear again. Although that was no longer the case, Castiel could understand why Dean would think so little of him. He had made mistakes and these doubts were the price he had to pay. 

For all that, Castiel was surprised when the Winchesters went about their own business and not inquiring further about the odd event that took place the day before. And he can’t say it was a pleasant surprise. The fact that the brothers didn’t show any sort of curiosity regarding his intuition only served to prove that they didn’t believe a word he said. They must have assumed that he had a moment of mental aberration and there was no point investigating what made him act the way he did. And that made Castiel angry because how could they be so careless to ignore it? It’s one thing to ask him questions despite not believing him because that would mean they intended to get to the root of it. That they had to make sure there wasn’t any truth to it. But to completely remain nonchalant is like confirming that there was nothing worth investigating. So, Castiel withdrew himself and decided that this was something that he had to figure out on his own.

He spent an hour in the firing range. The sound of the explosions and the weight of the cool metal in his hands were comforting. It kept him focused. He could think of something else for a moment when he trained to shoot. But Dean walked in a while later, grabbed the gun from him and complained about the lack of ammunition before he left. So, Castiel went to the library instead. He read some of the common books that the Winchesters used for reference on supernatural creatures. At least that would do them some good by saving time in the future. And maybe if he was lucky, he would come across some article that could explain the vibes he felt. He hardly walked out of the library except to go to bed at night. And he didn’t sleep more than four hours at a time. He read as much as he could, as fast as he could because it helped to take his mind off the knot in his stomach. The Winchesters dropped by every once in a while to start a small talk or pass him food. Other than that, he hardly spent any time with them.

*****

Dean was worried sick, seeing the way Castiel reacted in the aftermath of the moment of insanity. He secluded himself and did not pay any attention to the brothers. It was as though he had a holy mission again that he planned to complete and the last time that happened, it wasn’t good for anyone. He tried to distract him. He confiscated the gun and dropped by a lot to watch him read in the library. He even made him coffee from time to time and bought him an apple pie. But Castiel seemed undeterred from his work and it had been days since he last spoke to Dean. Dean also noticed that he didn’t rest enough. He knew this because he’d check on him in the middle of the night to find Castiel leaning heavily against the book but his eyes still swivelling from one line to another.

“You know, you don’t have to finish the entire library in a week,” Dean said as he stood against the door frame, staring at Castiel rocking back and forth as he read.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Castiel answered without a glance.

Dean walked over to him and grabbed the book from his hand.

He placed the book on the table facing downwards so that Castiel wouldn’t miss the page he stopped at.

“Talk to me,” Dean said with a determined look on his face as he leaned against the table.

“About what?” Castiel asked.

“Why are you avoiding us?”

“I am not avoiding you. Or Sam. I am just making myself useful.”

“What? By being cooped up in here and reading the fuck out of these books like they personally offended you?” Dean said with a smirk.

But that hardly elicited the response Dean expected. Castiel just continued staring at him as though willing him to leave. After a long moment, Dean gave up.

“Fine. Suit yourself,” Dean said, feeling irritated as he walked off.

Then, it was Sam’s turn to try and pull Castiel out of his cave. 

“Cas, we’re going to buy groceries,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Castiel answered easily.

“Why don’t you come with us?”

“I can stay here. You go ahead.”

“No, Cas. I want you to come with us. You need to get some fresh air.”

“I don’t think fresh air—“

Sam interjected, “I’m sorry. I must have given you the impression that you had a choice. You don’t, not really. So, get up. Let’s go.” 

He then walked out of the room without waiting for Castiel. Castiel could see that Sam had no intentions of leaving him behind so he might as well quit resisting. It’s just grocery shopping after all. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.

“Oh wow, the mole finally left his hole,“ Dean said jokingly.

“I am not a mole,” Castiel retorted.

They drove to the supermarket while Dean and Sam compared the hotness factor of Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansson. Between their argument, Castiel could see Dean glancing at him every so often from the rear-view mirror.

Upon reaching Walmart, Dean and Sam went on separate missions. Sam was assigned to get the toiletries while Dean shopped for food supplies. Castiel was found more useful in Dean’s department than Sam’s so he was paired with Dean.

“What you want for dinner, Cas?”

“I don’t mind. Anything will do.”

“Dude, I’m being nice enough to offer you a say in the matter. Not everybody gets that kind of opportunity.”

“I honestly don’t have an opinion. I can eat anything.”

“Then, you’re getting nothing but salad. No deserts for you.”

Again, Dean did not receive any response. Castiel kept quiet. So, Dean started talking about anything and everything. From Bob Andy pie to easy chicken noodle soup to the peppered strip steak that Bobby used to make. Castiel remained silent the entire time so Dean went around from one aisle to the next just talking about food. Over the years, he had visited way too many restaurants to be able to say he had tasted some of the best and worst that America had to offer. He was in the midst of educating Castiel on how to buy vegetables –specifically about buying under-ripe tomatoes that could last longer in storage- when he noticed a lady giving him a weird stare. He wondered why and flashed her a smile before turning around to find Castiel missing. He had been talking to himself for some time and he didn’t notice it. He walked out of the aisle to the front to find Sam queuing up in the long line.

“You done?” Sam asked, holding up his basket.

“You saw Cas anywhere?” 

“No. He was with you.”

“I know. He just… I turned around and he was gone.”

“He must be here somewhere,” Sam said reassuringly as he sensed the beginning of anxiety in his brother.

“I’ll go look for him,” Dean said as he passed his basket to Sam.

He walked around the food department, thinking he must have left him behind somewhere but he couldn’t find Castiel. So, he walked through every aisle and started feeling restless when he couldn’t find him anywhere. 

He called Castiel’s phone, murmuring to himself, “Come on, don’t tell me you left your phone at home.”

Just then, he heard the ringing of the phone. Since Castiel was using Dean’s secondary phone, the ring tone was ‘Smoke On The Water’ by Deep Purple. He followed the sound to find Castiel standing at the far end of the supermarket. Dean hung up and stopped next to Castiel.

“Do I have to teach you to pick up the damn phone?”

Castiel stared straight ahead at a metal door that looked pretty battered. He was zoned out, his face was expressionless except the squint of his eyes.

“Cas?”Dean called as he waited for Castiel to respond.

“Cas!” he squeezed Castiel’s forearm.

Only then did Castiel snap out of it and seemed to show signs of recognition.

“What the hell, dude?”

“I just... I thought... I felt something calling me, Dean,” Castiel sputtered. 

“What?! Are you hearing voices?”

“No. I just… I feel a presence. Behind this door.”

Dean walked forward and yanked the door open. It was a supply room. It was dark on the inside but the light from the supermarket shone into the room and revealed cleaning supplies.

“Are the brooms and wet mops calling you, Cas? Cause that’s all there is in here.”

Castiel just looked bewildered and afraid.

“I know what this must look like to you, Dean. I am not insane. Believe me, I am not losing my mind.”

Dean decided to let this slide.

“I know, Cas. Let’s go,” he said, prompting Castiel to follow him.

Dean did not discuss the issue any further. Not even to Sam. As he drove them all back home, he blasted AC/DC on the radio and kept his eyes on the road ahead. He pointedly avoided glancing at Castiel because he knew that the former angel kept an eye on him, watching for signs of distrust in him. If Castiel says he isn’t crazy, then Dean is going to take his word for it and give him the benefit of the doubt. Because he cannot bear to consider the other option. Not again. After all, he can't argue that the Winchesters are perfectly sane.


	23. Unravelling Madness

It wasn’t too long after when the boys were back on the job. Wright -a hunter- had called Dean for back up to clear a nest of vampires. The Winchesters vowed to never take a word of another hunter after the incident with Walt and Roy that got their asses sent to Heaven. So, they investigated the activities around the nest and when they were sure that Wright wasn’t setting a trap for them, they agreed to help him out. And since they also have Castiel whose mighty angel blade could slice through almost anything, the battle ensued with eleven vampires against four hunters. They broke into the place during the day when the vampires were asleep and they had been sneaky enough to get rid of almost half the enemies while they were still unconscious. Although many would argue that killing a sleeping man is morally equivalent to killing a child, the hunters had no qualms to take an easy road where they can get. Besides, that principle may not apply to monsters who would leap at the chance to suck their juices. But of course, the other half was fought fair and square with the hunters coming out on top. Dean would have been in an incredibly good mood and brought them all out for celebratory drinks had they not been drenched in blood. The thrill of swinging the machete and feeling it slice through the neck of a vampire is almost cancelled out by the spray of bodily juices right after. _Almost._

So, Wright bid farewell, got in his truck and drove away. He was not a bad hunter at all, bossy but skilled. Dean would not mind working with this guy once in a while but not on a regular basis. Two swords don't fit in one sheath. 

Sam and Dean had already reached the Impala outside to take off when Sam said, “Where’s Cas?”

That was enough to stop Dean cold and he rewound the incident in his head to make sure the former angel wasn’t hurt. No, he wasn’t. As far as Dean recalled, Castiel had been right by his side when he did a headcount –quite literally. And he wasn’t hurt other than being thrown across the room by one vampire. Castiel could handle that. 

_What if he had a concussion and fainted?_

Dean was back in the nest, making his way through the pile of bodies before he even had the time to complete that thought.

“Cas? CAS!” Dean shouted.

Sam followed after him, looking around for the former angel when he found Castiel standing rigid in front of a rusty metal door. 

“Hey. Cas,” Sam called as he touched his shoulder.

Castiel’s head whipped around so fast that Sam stumbled a step back in surprise. He looked like he had been put into a trance. He looked lost. 

Before Sam could reach out again, Dean appeared by his side and said, “Cas, let’s go.”

“Dean, it’s the door.”

“What door?” Sam asked.

Apparently, Sam was the only one who had no clue what Castiel meant because Dean just tugged Castiel by his trench coat. Sam could foresee himself having a conversation with Dean about being honest and sharing information.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go,” Dean said impatiently.

“I found it. It’s the door. The door is calling me.”

Dean tugged harder but Castiel stood, unmoving despite his smaller frame. That annoyed Dean more.

“You know, I’ve had it up to here with you!” Dean exclaimed.

“But listen, Dean. I know what it is now. The door, look. I should follow the path I’m being directed to.”

“Yeah? Not gonna happen,” Dean uttered, his voice thick with disdain.

“Am I the only one who has no fucking clue what’s up with the door?” Sam asked, feeling irritated at being left out.

He is used to Dean and Castiel talking among themselves but he had to know what the deal was with the door. 

“It’s nothing,” Dean said as though he intended to have the last say in the matter.

“It is not nothing! I can feel the—“ Castiel started only to be rendered speechless by Dean.

Dean yanked the door open which moved with a screeching noise, looking like it may come apart at the hinges.

The daylight shone through from a hole on a wall in the room, lighting the place enough to see that it held nothing but century old dust and trash. 

“There’s nothing inside. The vampires didn’t use the room,” Sam said cautiously, assuming this conversation was about the hunt.

Dean gritted his teeth as he glared at Castiel who looked shell-shocked as though he expected this door to lead to another and another, all the way up to Heaven or something. Castiel looked at him with wide, pleading eyes, trying to make sense of everything.

“Come on,” Dean ordered quietly, sounding like he had a hard time refraining from shouting at the top of his lungs.

He strode across the room, avoiding the bodies when he was certain that Castiel would follow. They threw their weapons into the trunk and climbed into the car. Sam was asleep in no time. He may have been in a better condition than he was before but he was still not in his best form. He was quick to run out of breath even during the hunt. Dean didn’t say a word, didn’t turn on the radio. He just drove quietly, focusing on the road and avoiding the broken angel in the back seat. Halfway through, he heard the words in quiet desperation.

“I am not insane,” Castiel said, more to himself than to anyone else.

This time, Dean didn’t acknowledge it because he didn’t feel like lying. There was no point pretending otherwise.


	24. Reality Is Merely An Illusion

Castiel imprisoned himself in the library, not wanting to face the brothers. He knew what the whole situation seemed like to the Winchesters. He knew he was alone in this matter. So, he did what he could to avoid their questioning looks. Maybe if he stayed quiet for long enough, they will forget his existence. Although that was not a possible solution, Castiel would sure try. 

Castiel thinks he is being subtle about his sudden paranoia but he isn’t. Dean noticed that Castiel kept almost all the doors –except the front door- in the bunkers open when they are unused. To test the assumption, Dean closed his bedroom door after he left the room and lay sprawled on the couch to watch TV. When he looked again, Castiel had casually walked past his room and opened the door wide before he caged himself in the library once more. Dean didn’t know what to do so he spoke to the only other person who knew first-hand what it felt like to lose his sanity.

“It’s possible. I mean, he is ancient, Dean. He has seen _a lot_ of shit that we can’t even begin to imagine. And he remembers them all. Maybe, his human form can’t handle such information overload,” Sam explained.

“So, you’re saying he’s crazy?” Dean asked.

“I’m saying there’s a possibility. And that I don’t blame him if he’s crazy.”

“What are we supposed to do? Therapy?”

Sam outright laughed at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

“Yeah, send an angel of the lord to therapy. Let's see how that works,” Sam mocked.

“Don’t be a smart-ass. What else can we do?”

“Nothing. You can’t do anything about it. You just…live with it.”

Dean rolled his eyes and was about to make a snide remark when Sam stopped him.

“It’s fucking scary, Dean. I’ll tell you that. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever felt, losing my mind. And I’ve seen a lot of shit too, so trust me when I say, it was terrifying. It’s not just seeing things and hearing voices in my head. I could feel it. The pain, it’s as real as it gets. So when he says he feels something, don’t degrade it just because you don’t feel the same. It’s real to him.”

“So, what… I should play along with his hallucinations?” Dean asked, feeling angry at how clueless he was at the time.

“No,” Sam said patiently. “All we can do is remind him every so often that it’s all in his head when he trips. And keep him safe. This is his struggle. We can only be there for him. We can’t fight it for him.”

So, the brothers did what they could to lure Castiel out of the library. Dean suggested to watch Star Wars with him. Sam offered to teach him how to use the laptop and gather information from the internet. As difficult as it was for Dean, he even offered to teach Castiel to drive. All of these things that would have been a mousetrap to break Castiel’s solitude at any other time failed miserably the one time they needed it to work. Finally -after two days of staying inside- the brothers forced Castiel out by grabbing him by the trench coat and mounting him into the car to join them for dinner. Dean drove somewhere far so that Castiel wouldn’t be able to get to his books any time soon. The dinner was quiet because Castiel wouldn’t say a word. Dean practically ordered the meal for Castiel since he wouldn’t react to the waitress. They ate in silence except the awkward glances that the hunters shared among themselves. 

Then, it happened again. Castiel who followed them as they walked back to the Impala stopped in his tracks and stared like he just saw a ghost. Sam noticed the halted sound of footsteps and pulled at Dean to pause him in his gait. They walked back to where Castiel stood, looking like a lost puppy and inquired what was wrong. Castiel just turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. The hunters went after him, trying to talk some sense into him when Castiel took a sharp turn to the back of the restaurant. He stopped in front of a rusty, old metal door. 

“This is the back door of the kitchen. There’s nothing in there,” Dean explained, knowing Castiel’s train of thoughts.

Castiel turned to face him with an intense glare that would have scared Dean off had he still been an angel.

“Can’t you see? It’s the same door everywhere I go! Are you visually impaired or just too obtuse and egocentric to open your mind to things outside of your level of apprehension?” Castiel spat out.

Dean was taken aback by the sudden blow-out. Sam felt bad for his brother because that was pretty harsh but he also remembered and understood what it feels like when the line between reality and insanity begins to fade into nothingness. It is frightening and infuriating -as fear of the unknown often induces anger. 

“Cas, he was only trying to help. Look, this thing with doors, it’s all in your head,” Sam said, sympathy evident in his voice. 

He was about to reach out and yank the door open when Castiel hit his hand hard, causing him to retract his hand in shock.

“What the hell—“ Sam started, getting a little irritated.

“Don’t touch the door! It’s calling for me. Not you.” Castiel hissed.

Dean was about to knock some sense into Castiel when the former angel grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it downwards until it dislodged. When he carefully opened the door, it was eerily dark but Dean could make out the layout of the room due to the illumination from the street light. There were old pipes and hot-water tanks inside. He was wrong, it wasn’t a kitchen. It was a boiler room. 

_Big difference,_ Dean thought contemptuously in his head.

“Wow, Cas! Go ahead, the pipes are summoning you,” Dean retorted as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn’t ridicule Castiel’s psychosis but he was intensely annoyed and quite frankly pissed off that Castiel insulted him earlier. Right then, Castiel stepped into the confined area and the hunters watched in absolute horror when the region around Castiel distorted and rippled like a pebble tossed into a pool of water. And just like a stone, Castiel was engulfed by the space around him and the ripples were beginning to settle when Sam and Dean jumped right into the heart of it without a second thought. In the blink of an eye, they had been transported to some place else. Castiel stood a step ahead of them in the foreign land, staring intensely and taking in every detail in the surroundings and the people that were chattering away in some language that sounded familiar. Dean turned around to look at Sam’s aghast expression and he knew for certain that he wasn’t imagining it.

Dean’s first thought was, _I’ll be damned!_


	25. Losing Grip

Wherever this place was that the Winchesters had stumbled into, it wasn’t following the time back at home. Here, it wasn’t 8 o’clock at night. It was the break of dawn. The sun slowly peeked out, lighting the place but their visions were restricted due to the haze in the area. It was still early in the morning but the townspeople had been busy opening up shops in the vicinity. This place had to be a market. 

“Holy shit!” Sam exhaled.

Castiel turned around and just noticed that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want the Winchesters to follow him through the portal but he didn’t expect any less from them. Everyone knows that the Winchesters are never one to back off from danger but no one knows it like Castiel. He faced forward again, eyes scanning the place.

“I am acutely aware that this is not the appropriate time, place or circumstance to remind you that I told you so—“ Castiel started.

“But you told me so,” Dean said, knowing what came next.

“Yes,” Castiel retorted before he walked to the nearest shop.

He stared intently at a piece of pottery.

“Where are we? People here look… different,” Sam said.

“I feel like I have been here before. I know this place,” Castiel answered.

“Then, what is this place?” Dean asked.

Just then, the man selling pottery and sculptures said something to Castiel. And Castiel answered him back. In the man’s language.

Dean started, “Wait, is that--”

“Latin,” Sam interjected. 

“Classical Latin, yes,“ Castiel confirmed. “Welcome to ancient Rome!”

That piqued Sam’s curiosity as he looked around with wonder. Even Dean was impressed that they have travelled through time to ancient Rome.

_Travelled through time…_

“How the hell did this happen?” Dean asked.

Just then, the ground beneath shook as the shop owner held on to his pottery and sculptures to avoid them from falling and breaking. All the people in the market braced themselves and prevented their properties from falling until the quake stopped. Sam questioned the shop owner about the incident in Latin and got laughed at. He then told the man that they were tourists. The man regained his composure before explaining that these minor earth tremors were very common in that region and he should get accustomed to it if he intended to stay for long. The hunters turned to Castiel who stood rigid with a horrified expression as he looked up. They followed his gaze to find a huge mountain towering over the town. It spewed black smoke that settled over the town as haze. 

“Pompeii. We are in Pompeii,” Castiel said in a grave tone.

He then immediately turned to the shop owner and asked in Latin what date it was. The man replied easily that it was the 24th of August. Castiel questioned the year and this time the man eyed him up oddly before saying 79 AD.

“Oh shit!” Sam exclaimed. 

“What?” Dean asked Castiel. 

When the angel pointedly ignored him, Dean turned to Sam.

“What?” Dean asked petulantly.

“Pompeii? 79 AD? Mount Vesuvius?” Sam said impatiently as though that should make sense. 

“So…?”

“Dean, this is history. What the hell did you do in school?” Sam huffed in annoyance.

“Yeah, of course I know… It’s… Hmmm… No, I did chicks, not homework. Now, you gonna tell me or what?” 

“Today, Mount Vesuvius will erupt,” Castiel answered.

He tore his eyes away from the mountain to face Dean before saying, “Today, everyone here dies.” 

It took a moment for Dean to grasp what Castiel said but when he did, he wore a matching troubled expression on his face.

“We travelled back in time to die? In Rome?” Dean captioned the obvious because he didn’t know how else to react to it.

Nobody taught him appropriate responses to such moments in school. And that would be Dean's argument as to why he never cared much for formal education. They taught him nothing worth knowing. 

“I _cannot_ die. You understand? Under no circumstances should I die here. I have to survive this. You have to help me survive this no matter what happens,” Castiel urged, his voice getting louder with every passing moment.

“Yeah… Okay, Cas. We’ll try. I mean, I don’t even know what to do here,” Dean answered confusedly. 

“About 20 000 people are going to die and they don’t even know it yet. We should ask them to evacuate,” Sam said.

“No. No, we cannot do that,” Castiel said hurriedly.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“You said it yourself, Sam. This is history. You cannot change it. This is a fixed point in time and those 16 000 people are doomed to death. This has to happen. No way of stopping the eruption, no way of saving a single soul that wasn’t destined to be saved. I, on the other hand, have to live through this. We need to find a hill. The mountain will erupt by noon. We have to save ourselves.”

With that said, Castiel ran in the opposite direction from the mountain and the Winchesters went after him.

Dean called out after a while of running after Castiel.

“Cas!”

Castiel continued running.

“Hey! Cas!”

“What?” Castiel shouted.

“How did we get here?”

“Through the portal,” Castiel answered breathlessly as he ran.

“No. I mean…” Dean panted. “I mean, who did this? No more angels… so who—“

Castiel stopped and waited for Dean to catch up before he spat out, “I don’t know and I have no time to figure this out right now. So, will you do me a favour and shut up until our safety is guaranteed?”

Castiel scampered off again and Dean waited a moment for his brother. Sam wasn’t perfectly healthy yet so he had begun to sweat a lot and panted for breath with every step.

“Hang in there, Sammy. Don’t slow down now,” Dean said as he took off and dragged Sam along. 

After what seemed like forever to Sam, they had finally reached a hill. But that news was in no way comforting to him because now, he had a hill to climb. His lungs burnt like they were about to collapse and his legs almost gave out. Just then, he watched three kids race each other towards the town as they laughed gleefully. 

“How bout them?” Sam asked.

Castiel looked up to the mountain and then to the hill they were meant to climb before he said with exasperation, “An hour from now, Mount Vesuvius will spew a deadly cloud of volcanic gas, stones, ash and fumes. That is a hundred thousand times more powerful than the thermal energy released by the atomic bombing during the war among your kind. The towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum will be obliterated and buried underneath rivers of death made up of lava, mud and debris that can incinerate the body and kill almost instantly. Now, _that_ should motivate you to move faster.”

Castiel had climbed one step when Dean spoke, “We should bring those kids with us. We can’t just leave them here.”

“No, we are not doing that and yes, we must leave them here,” Castiel answered, tilting his head to urge them to move faster.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean uttered indignantly.

“This is destined to happen the way it happened before.“ Castiel said.

“Bullshit! Haven’t you learnt anything after all these years? There is no destiny,” Dean spat out. 

“Have you not met Atropos, Dean? This is written in time and fate must be maintained. You cannot avert this. The Moirai will kill each and everyone that is supposed to die in other twisted ways if they don’t die right now.”

“Well, we averted the apocalypse. I think we can do something about this,” Sam said.

“We won’t survive this if you don’t start climbing,” Castiel retorted as he climbed further up.

“Tough. I’m not gonna let them all die,” Dean said.

Castiel shouted from where he stood at the bottom of the hill, “You can’t save everybody.”

“I can save _someone_ ,” Dean shouted back.

“Dean, they will die either way. We don’t have to.”

“Since when did you become so selfish, Cas?” Sam asked, sounding irritated.

“I am not selfish,” Castiel uttered angrily.

“Yeah? Cause all you seem to care about, from the moment you found out about the volcano, is you staying alive. All these people be damned as long as you survive. You’re no longer an angel, Cas. You’re one of us, humans. Start acting like it,” Dean exclaimed.

That made Castiel furious and he instantly climbed down to stand right in front of Dean. 

“I have watched this happen the first time around from heaven. I am a witness to this disaster. Do you understand the significance of my survival? If the two of you die here, it doesn’t distort anything from the past. You would have travelled back in time from the year 2013 to 79 AD and died. Because you were not born during this time. But I have been a part of this. If I die here, I will cease to exist _from_ 79 AD. Everything will unfold as it does but without me and my actions to skew the results. Which would mean that the two of you will be born, raised as hunters and you, Dean will go to hell. Only this time, I wouldn’t be the one to raise you from perdition. And whoever the angel is that saves you, will stay true to destiny and prepare you to be the vessels you were meant to be. Can your small mind comprehend what that means?” 

“The apocalypse will take place as destined?” Sam asked as he slowly inched his way towards understanding.

“Exactly. Without my rebellion against Heaven, against Raphael, the whole world will go down to ruins. Despite my mistakes, my decisions have made an everlasting impact. And that leaves me with a choice. Thousands of people in Pompeii or billions of people of the world. What would you choose?” 

“But we don’t know that. Maybe, the apocalypse could still be averted without you,” Dean said cautiously.

“There’s a reason for my being here. Someone or something powerful wants me dead. Now, think, Dean. Why would that be? Are you willing to risk it? Because if you are, then by all means, I will help you save as many people as I can. Even if it brings me to my untimely demise.”

Dean knew what he would choose. There was no way he would take the chances. Not after everything they’ve been through. And he honestly did not think that any other angel would stand for humanity against destiny. Averting the apocalypse was a team effort -just like kick starting it in the first place was. Without any one of the members, it couldn’t have been prevented. 

But that knowledge didn’t make him hate himself any less when he said, “You go first, Cas.”

Castiel immediately started climbing the hill. Dean forced Sam to go before him. The three of them didn’t get too far when they heard the roaring sound of the explosive eruption. Black, thick soot was released into the air, clouding the entire town. The place instantly turned darker than night.The hill shook under the intensity of the eruption and rocks came tumbling down. They tried to avoid colliding with the avalanche but their vision was terribly restricted by ash fall deposits. They suffocated and coughed their lungs out through ash inhalation and the blast of debris. Just then, a slide of rocks hit Sam, throwing him off balance. Dean pushed him upwards in time to regain his stance but in doing so, his own weight tipped off the rock he held on to. He grabbed the first thing he could reach to stop from falling and that happened to be Sam’s leg.

“HOLD ON, DEAN!” Sam shouted as he hooked his arm around a boulder. 

Dean dangled from Sam’s leg and he could see his brother struggling to keep them both suspended. Castiel climbed down a few steps and shouted at Sam to grab his hand.

“YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T PULL US BOTH UP!” Sam screamed back as he readjusted his grip around the boulder.

Dean could see that Sam wouldn’t last long. Even if he was as strong as before, there was no way he could keep them both suspended for long. He would lose his grip eventually. And given Sam’s current health predicament, eventually meant in a matter of minutes. And there was no way Castiel could haul them both up. Not without his angelic powers. He could help Sam up though. So, Dean knew what he had to do. 

“CAS!” Dean shouted at the top of his lungs.

Castiel responded, “DEAN! ENDURE A LITTLE LONGER! I WILL PULL YOU UP!” 

That made Dean laugh a little despite the painful tightening in his chest that had less to do with asphyxia and more to do with the realisation that this was where the journey would end for him.

“CAS, WATCH OUT FOR MY BROTHER!” Dean called out.

That hit Sam like lightning to his bones. He knew what that meant. And he could swear that even Lucifer didn’t scare him as badly as those words did.

“DEAN, DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! DON’T LET GO! I GOT YOU!” Sam shouted desperately as he stretched his neck to look down at Dean.

Sam watched as Dean forced a small smile of resignation on his face. He saw Dean uttering the words more than hearing it.

A quiet _’I’m sorry, Sammy.’_

Dean released his grip on his brother’s leg just then and Sam’s heart almost gave out.

“NO!” Sam yelled.

It was followed by Castiel’s shriek, “DEAN!”

Sam wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do anything about it. He would die for Dean in a second and that was exactly what he intended to do if he couldn’t save him this time. So, Sam let one hand go so he could bend and grab Dean by his leather jacket. He felt an intense rush of relief wash over him when he managed to get hold of Dean’s jacket but that feeling didn’t last long when he felt his other hand slipping.

“LET GO, SAM! YOU’RE GONNA KILL YOURSELF!” Dean yelled.

And Sam did let go. Not of Dean but of the boulder. If this was how he had to die, he’d rather hold on to his brother. But his thoughts spiralled when Castiel tried to grab his hand and ended up tipping forward. Castiel yelped as he lost balance and fell off with them.

As Castiel closed his eyes and prepared for the impact and his inevitable death, he prayed, _'I tried my best. I’m sorry I failed.'_


	26. Face The Divine Wrath

When Castiel opened his eyes, he stood in the boiler room, all parts of himself intact. For a moment, he feared that he did lose his sanity but he noticed the Winchesters next to him, coughing out the dust. They were covered in soot and smelled like smoke. Which served to indicate that all that craziness did take place.

“Cas?” Dean called out.

“I am alive,” Castiel uttered disbelievingly.

“Yeah. All of us are,” Dean replied.

Sam, on the other hand, dissolved into a coughing fit, wheezing as he drew in a gasp. 

Dean stroked his back as he asked, “You okay?”

Sam nodded as he straightened up. He then looked at Dean’s smiling face and threw a punch. It was not hard enough to bruise but it hurt all the same. Dean’s face got pushed to the side from the momentum of it and he let out a yelp. 

When he regained his composure, he complained, “Owww… What the hell, Sam?”

“That's for letting go, you asshole,” Sam spat out. “You could have died.”

“Yeah, that was the plan. Or we would have both fallen off.” 

“Apparently, all three of us did.”

“Which raises the obvious question, why aren’t we dead?” Castiel asked gravely, looking around the small boiler room that hardly had enough space for the three of them for some sort of trap. 

“Let’s get out of here. This place is suffocating,” Dean said as he yanked the door open. 

The three of them exited the room as Castiel scanned the room for one last time. Then, they heard a voice from behind them as they took a step forward.

“I should have let you die.”

Their heads whipped around so fast and their hearts began to race again, realising that they weren’t safe yet. Leaning against the street light, the small figure was silhouetted against the bright orange background. They would have never guessed who it was despite the clear signs that should have triggered off like an alarm. They stared back in a state of stunned confusion.

“Gabriel?” all three of them said in unison.

“Let’s stop the idle chatter and cut to the chase,” Gabriel said angrily as he walked the distance to stand directly in front of Castiel. 

“ _You_ should be dead,” Gabriel said as he pointed a finger to his brother’s face.

“I could say the same about you,” Castiel answered as he regained his composure.

“Don’t get snarky with me. I’m still finding one good reason to not end you.”

“How are you alive?” Sam asked. 

“They call me the trickster for a reason, pretty boy.”

Dean –still not wholly comprehending how it was possible for Gabriel to trick Lucifer- exclaimed, “But it's not possible. I mean… Lucifer--”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and replied, “Didn’t I just explain? You’re friggin’ slow on the uptake.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something when Gabriel put his hand up to stop him.

“Shut up, I’m not here for a chat. You fuckers shouldn’t even be here. So, run before I change my mind.”

“We’re not leaving without Cas,” Sam said indignantly.

“Oh okay. Sure. Then, die with him.”

Castiel spoke this time, “You would not stall time if your motives were purely to obliterate. You would have done it already.”

Gabriel glared at Castiel like he fought the urge to smite him right then and there on general principle.

“I would have. But you… you _stupid_ child. You had to pray. You and your stupid, blind faith.”

“You heard me…” Castiel said cautiously.

“Who else would? Daddy? Cause he doesn’t give a single shit about us.”

“If you allowed my continued existence because you heard my prayer, then my faith isn’t blind or stupid.“

“Oh, shut up. SHUT UP!” Gabriel shouted as he grabbed Castiel by his trench coat and shoved him against the nearest wall.

“You destroyed them all. YOU DESTROYED YOUR OWN FAMILY! FOR WHAT?! THESE ASSHOLES?”

“They have... nothing to do with this,” Castiel explained, short-winded from being slammed so hard.

“Really?” Gabriel snarled. “Since when are they not the reason behind everything you do?”

Dean stepped forward, intending to help Castiel when Gabriel turned around and said, “Stay away! Or I’ll wipe your brother out.”

Gabriel held his hand out like he would snap his fingers until Dean backed off. He then turned back to Castiel and gripped the collar of his shirt as he raised him a little from slouching against the wall.

“I’ve been watching you. All those monkey stunts you pulled. You killed Raphael and thousands of angels. I didn’t interfere. You played God, I stayed quiet. But this is the final straw. How dare you banish all the angels to Earth? Who gave you the right? You’re no better than Lucifer, you know that? You’re just like him,” Gabriel spat out.

“Where were you when he needed you?” Sam asked. “You could have stopped Raphael but you didn’t. Now you’re going to blame him for trying?”

Dean added, “Yeah. Cas made the wrong choices but you’re no better than him. In fact, you’re a lot worse. You’re a coward!”

Gabriel disappeared in a flutter of wings and reappeared behind Dean. He grabbed Dean by his arm when Dean was taken aback and swung him around. Dean landed with a hard slam against the opposite wall. He groaned in agony when Gabriel stood before him and gripped his face. Sam ran towards Dean just to be thrown across by a swift motion of the archangel’s wrist. Castiel couldn’t move as he was held against the wall by an invisible force. Castiel’s mind whirred as he wondered how Gabriel retained his powers. But his thoughts were diverted back to the present moment when Gabriel pressed Dean's face harder against the wall.

“Say that again if you have the balls,” Gabriel hissed.

Dean was breathless and in pain but he managed to drawl out the words. 

“You’re… a coward. And a hypocrite.”

Gabriel slammed his fist on Dean’s face.

“What was that?”

“You ran away,” Dean breathed out. “You didn’t… stand up…to Lucifer. You tricked him.”

Dean braced himself for another blow but it didn’t come. Instead, Gabriel flicked his wrist and Sam was held up against the wall next to Castiel. He then used his powers to haul Sam up and keep him suspended. The hunter suffocated as he was strangled with an invisible cord wound around his neck.

“Stop,” Dean whimpered. “Let him go.” 

Gabriel returned his gaze to Dean and Sam fell off from the top and hit the ground with a loud thud.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Gabriel said sarcastically. “If I’m a hypocrite, what does that make you, huh?”

Gabriel punched Dean again and the older hunter spat out blood.

“You won’t kill your brother even if the world depended on it. But I have to?” Gabriel asked. “How is that fair, you bag of dicks? I did you a favour that day, with the stunt I pulled on Lucifer. I saved your lives. But you’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that?”

He swung his hand to strike Dean again but stopped midway when Castiel shouted, “Let them go! This is between you and me.”

The archangel stood up and faced Castiel.

“I believed in you, Castiel. I thought you, of all angels, understood humanity. I thought you valued life. Family. But you decimated your own kind. Is that all you learnt? You think that's what Dad meant when He asked us to love _them_ more than anything?”

Castiel felt the knot tightening in his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe. But he had to force the words out. He had to make Gabriel understand that he loved his family.

“I have made mistakes. I’m sorry. There is _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to fix this,” Castiel choked out. 

“But that is exactly how I got here, brother. I trusted the wrong people in desperation. I thought shutting the gates of Heaven would…” Castiel couldn’t finish the sentence so he took a deep breath instead as tears welled in his eyes.

“I didn’t know that it was a spell. I didn’t expect Metatron to deceive me in order to get his revenge.” 

That got Gabriel’s attention.

“Metatron? God’s scribe?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes,” Castiel answered solemnly.

“You’re telling me that _he_ devastated Heaven? And I’m supposed to buy that bullshit?”

“But he did,” Sam coughed out.

Gabriel snorted, “Oh please. Have you seen that spineless wimp? He was one of the first angels to climb into a hole the minute God left the building. He wasn’t even an angel, to begin with. He was a prophet. A feeble human given the honour of an angelic status. He doesn’t have what it takes to bring down heaven. He was just… an office boy.”

Dean sat up, back against the wall and huffed out, “You think you’re the only one who picked up a few tricks down here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cheated Death because I love Gabriel too much to let him die easy.


	27. Angel in the Impala

The night got colder as all four of them stood in the dark alley with no sense of direction. Where do they go from here? Should they hug it out, accept their fates and part ways again now that Castiel has his brother? Or would Gabriel still attempt to find other creative ways to kill his only family? Dean didn’t believe that Gabriel had the stomach for that. Despite his terrifying powers, Gabriel had never killed one of his own. Not under any circumstances. Even when he faced Lucifer, he had no intentions of harming him. Dean sees that now. But then again, he shouldn’t underestimate the ruthlessness of the archangel. Gabriel was mere seconds away from letting them fall to death and burn in Pompeii. 

The patrons of the restaurant cleared out as the owner arranged the chairs on the tables, indicating it was time to leave. Every now and then, a few people stood at the other end of the alley and stared -wondering what these men were doing, each with their backs to the wall. Dean had a feeling that if they stayed a while longer, someone might call the cops. When he voiced his concern out loud, -breaking the deafening silence- Gabriel moved a few steps towards Castiel and rested his hand on his shoulder. Dean and Sam lunged forward from their positions and watched Gabriel closely –in case he had any intentions of pulling out a blade and stabbing Castiel. He wouldn’t need an angel blade for that though. He could snap Castiel’s body in two since Castiel was completely human. Castiel winced at the touch but didn’t move. He had a fleeting thought –a mild regret- that he didn’t bring his angel blade along this time. He could have threatened his way out of the situation. This close, Gabriel would back off if Castiel removed an angel blade because that was every angel’s Achilles' heel. But then again, even the snap of a finger was enough to kill Castiel at this point. Castiel remembered the excruciating pain in the fraction of a second when literally every fibre of his being was tugged in different directions before he combusted. That moment when Lucifer snapped his finger and Castiel didn’t even have a full second to catch his breath or blink his eyes. He expected a replay of that but this time, he was certain that there would be no resurrection. 

Gabriel stared hard at him and tilted his head as though he was eavesdropping on someone. 

He rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t be so friggin’ melodramatic, brother. I’m zapping us out of here.“ He then turned to the Winchesters with a raised eyebrow and uttered, “Well, come on, boys. Do you need an invitation?”

Dean didn’t trust Gabriel to let him lay a finger on him. And he would sooner stab Gabriel in the neck than leave his Baby in the cold night, by the side of a street in a far away town. 

“No. I’m driving back home,” Dean said pointedly. “And I’m taking Sam with me.”

Dean then looked at Castiel, silently questioning, _You coming or what?_

Castiel would prefer the flight than the drive considering that he missed the rush of the wind on his face and the flutter of wings. But he highly doubted that he could feel it now that he’s human. Besides, it wouldn’t be very smart of him to take up Gabriel’s offer given that just minutes ago, Gabriel had expressed his desire to deprive him of existence. And part of being human is the burning need for survival even when he believes that he deserves to die. It was a lot more difficult to stay unaffected in the face of danger when he could _feel_ fear. 

“I would prefer Dean’s choice of transportation,” Castiel said cautiously.

Dean then moved forward and grabbed the sleeve of Castiel’s trench coat. 

“Okay, then there’s that,” Dean announced as he tugged Castiel away from Gabriel.

“Fine. We’ll have it your way, asshat,” Gabriel said exasperatedly.

*****

They reached the bunkers after almost two hours of driving. Dean swore to himself to never drive to another town for freaking dinner. But the drive back home gave Castiel enough time and security to explain things to Gabriel. The archangel didn’t say anything though. He just listened and stared out the window which made Dean squirm like the Apocalypse waiting to happen all over again. Because in all of Dean’s time of knowing the feathered asshole, he was anything but quiet. Sam must have shared the same sentiment if the wary glances he threw at Dean was any indication at all. In the back seat of the Impala, a storm was brewing. The radio turned on by itself and crackled. The headlights and tail lights flickered. Sam turned the radio off with a cautious touch and looked at Dean.

Dean uttered softly as to not startle the archangel, “Dude, control your temper. You’re messing with my car.”

The radio turned on again, this time the volume was cranked all the way up to maximum and it made a high pitched static noise. Dean jumped as his heart skipped a beat and he accidentally swerved the car too far to the left. 

He got the car back on the road before he crashed into a tree and cursed loudly, “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Sam stabbed his finger at the Power button to turn the radio off as he cupped his one ear tightly with his free hand. This time, the radio turned off and silence was regained.

He heard Gabriel utter quietly, “Don’t tell me what to do, you arrogant dick.”

Despite Dean’s sudden spurt of anger and strong urge to slam his fist on the archangel’s face, he did not say a word. Let the record show that Dean Winchester is not stupid. 

He may or may not have muttered _’Son of a bitch’_ under his breath. 

Let the record show that Dean Winchester is not _entirely_ stupid. The ride back home was completely silent after that.


	28. Let's Get This Show On The Road

When Dean parked the Impala in front of the bunkers, Gabriel didn’t waste any time. He teleported without a word while Dean fumbled with his keys to open the front door. 

“Son of a bitch! We’re gonna need angel-proofing,” Dean growled. 

Upon entering the bunkers, they find Gabriel toying with one of the swords. 

“Not bad. This place is neat,” Gabriel said.

The Winchesters rolled their eyes and didn’t respond. 

Castiel who felt the need to fix everything replied, “Yes, thank you.”

Dean snorted at that but deep down, he was a little proud that Castiel would consider the bunkers his home and have the desire to accept the compliment.

Gabriel, apparently still retained all his angel mojo except the ability to return to Heaven. The archangel had been living in different disguises and walking the Earth for centuries. He was already regarded dead a long time ago because no angels could track him. His outstanding powers of transforming the appearance of his vessel and altering reality had kept him safely hidden. He also turned off his angel radio so he was unaware of all proceedings in Heaven as they were unaware of his existence. Besides, posing as a Demi God gave a solid reason for the angels to overlook him. The Pagan Gods knew him as Loki and nobody suspected anything. Only Castiel, the Winchesters and Lucifer knew his true identity. All of them believed he was killed in the final encounter. The spell that Metatron cast only banished the angels who resided in Heaven. Gabriel’s refuge on Earth had dropped him off the radar. 

Gabriel laid on the couch with his ankles crossed and blew bubbles with his bubble gum. The Winchesters sat on their respective chairs and watched –anticipating something. Castiel just paced around the living room, deep in thoughts.

“You could destroy Metatron,” Castiel said hopefully.

“The thought of annihilation comes very easily to you, lil bro. I would be careful if I were you,” Gabriel warned with a fierce glare.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to… You could imprison him. The way you kept me away when Sam and Dean were stuck in TV land. You could do that,” Castiel said.

“Oh please, don’t act all noble,” Dean directed the remark at Gabriel. “You’ve killed enough people with your goddamn tricks. Hell, you’ve killed me a dozen times. So, I say if you get your hands on that book-hoarding son of a bitch, you finish him.”

“Since when do I take orders from you, bucko?” Gabriel asked as he sat up on the couch to turn back and look at Dean.

“You were willing to kill us not too long ago. But you won’t kill Metatron?” Sam asked, irritation evident on his face.

“You chuckleheads didn’t hear a single shit I said, did you? It’s not that I won’t kill that bastard. I never liked him in the first place. I _can’t_ kill him.”

“Why the hell not? You’re an archangel for fuck’s sake. I’ve seen Metatron, he may be devious but he doesn’t look all that fierce,” Dean exclaimed.

“The appearance of his vessel does not determine his strength, Dean,” Castiel supplied helpfully.

“No, Deano’s right. Metatron _is_ chickenshit,” Gabriel interjected. “However, I have no connections to Heaven whatsoever. So, unless you have a way to lure him down to Earth, I can’t do anything to him.” 

Gabriel looked from one hunter to the next, anticipating a reply.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

“Fine. Farewell, boys. I hope to never see any of you again. You are the worst things that have ever happened to me and that being said, Satan is my brother. So, you can imagine how much of a colossal pain in the ass you guys have been,” he said as he stood up. 

“No, wait!” Sam called out.

Dean pounced at Gabriel and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t go disappearing now, douche! You’re the only one who can fix this mess,” Dean uttered.

“I didn’t start this, you putz,” Gabriel spat out.

“If you don’t stay, I will find a way to summon your ass right into a ring of holy fire, you understand? Do I make myself clear?” Dean said harshly.

“I’d like to see you try,” Gabriel snarled.

Castiel stood before Gabriel and looked him in the eye, “Brother, you are our only hope.”

Gabriel stopped resisting and sighed deeply. 

“What does it matter to you anyway?" His eyes swivelled from Dean to Sam. "Since when do you care so much for the angels?”

“We don’t. But letting Metatron take the throne isn’t the right thing to do,” Sam answered.

“Bullshit!” Gabriel exclaimed.

Dean moved in close and growled, “That asshole let Sam take the trials to shut the gates of Hell, knowing that he would die by the end of it. I would rip his lungs out with my bare hands if I could. So yeah, I want him dead cause I want him fucking _dead_. Is that enough of an explanation?”

Gabriel snorted and said, “Yeah, the usual motive then. You’re so bloody predictable, you know that?” 

“Are you going to help us or not?” Sam asked.

The archangel retorted, “Do I have a friggin’ choice?” 

With that, the Winchesters and Castiel kick started their research to find a way to summon Metatron to Earth where he will battle it out against Gabriel. They were absolutely certain that there was no way Metatron could win against Gabriel. The boys have witnessed first hand the power of an archangel when they watched Michael burn Anna down to ashes. Gabriel –despite his knack for all things human- is still one of the fiercest creations of God and he could take down Metatron. However, somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind, he doubted the commitment of the archangel. He observed Gabriel with a critical eye. The archangel seemed to be pleasantly indulged in snacks that he materialised out of air while watching Casa Erotica on TV. Dean didn’t have faith that Gabriel would go all the way with the plan. However, he didn’t have a choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt.


	29. Weave A Tangled Web

An entire day was spent, scanning through books and translating Enochian spells. They stayed up all night, attempting to find a way to summon Metatron. Sam had summoned Balthazar before when he was soulless. The Winchesters tried that same spell on Metatron but it didn’t provide any favourable results. Gabriel mentioned that Metatron probably got elevated to an archangel now. Or a Seraph at least, given that he holds all of heaven. Simple summoning spells wouldn’t work on him. 

On the second day, Dean called Kevin to ask if he had -by any chance- translated the angel tablet. He didn’t expect good news but surprisingly, Kevin had been working on the tablet since they last met. Let the record show that Kevin Tran makes a hell of a prophet. He had not finished translating the entire tablet but had figured out Metatron’s spell. Metatron had found a way to cast the angels to Earth by making Castiel commit a sin of the same nature as Lucifer; not loving humanity. Castiel was the only angel who loved humanity more than himself and willingly chose to side people. The other being Gabriel who was supposedly dead at the time. That was why he needed Castiel to undertake the trials. The necessary constituents for the spell were meant to taint the bond between human and angels which goes against the explicit command of God. The Nephilim was a product of love shared between an angel and a human. Cutting out the heart of the only Nephilim in existence would cleave the bond between angels and humans. He then persuaded Castiel to get hold of the device of love; the Cupid ’s bow. In doing so, Castiel had corrupted his grace. Finally, Metatron harvested the defiled grace of the angel that loved humanity the most, thus consummating the cardinal sin. 

As Castiel listened to the phone conversation, he was disgusted of himself. Gabriel was right. He is no better than Lucifer. He is an abomination. He hated himself for not having the foresight to decipher the trials. He slumped inelegantly on the nearest chair as his legs almost gave out. Castiel finally understood what heartache felt like. The utter devastation followed by the feeling of nothingness. Loneliness. The stabbing pain in the chest that was worse than any other physical pain. The suffocating feeling of holding your breath and being afraid to let go. Being afraid that everything will come crashing down if you as much as exhale air out of your lungs. He felt it. He felt his heart shatter and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from feeling terrifyingly hollow. Not just the empty feeling that was subsequent to losing his grace. He felt like his entire being was carved out and he was nothing but a shell. Worthless. 

Sam reached out to Castiel and rubbed his back in a futile attempt to comfort the fallen angel’s conscience. 

Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “It’s okay. We will find a way to undo this.” 

Castiel let out a shuddering breath and his throat constricted. He couldn’t say a word. Tears welled up in his eyes and he closed them to force it back in. He couldn’t cry. He didn’t deserve to cry and pour out his anguish. He had to suffer. That was the price he had to pay.

Dean turned off the loudspeaker on the phone and put Kevin on hold. He grabbed the phone and walked past Castiel to attend the call in his room. But he paused in his stride and gingerly touched Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel didn’t look up. He still had his hands clutching the armrests of the wooden chair and his head bowed down. He scrunched his eyes shut.

“Someone once told me that too much heart was your problem,” Dean said softly, consciously refraining from mentioning Samandriel’s name, knowing that it will only serve to split the fallen angel from inside out. 

Dean tightened his grip on Castiel’s shoulder and continued, “I didn’t believe it then but I do now. And I forgive you for that.”

With that, Dean walked off to his bedroom and shut the door. He didn’t wait to see the effects of his word. Which was probably for the best because no matter how hard Castiel tried, he could no longer stop the tears from falling.

Sam sat quietly with Castiel as he wept into his hands. Gabriel didn’t say anything either. He just remained seated on the couch, sipping some fine scotch that appeared out of nowhere. And if he heard Castiel’s incessant prayers for forgiveness from the Lord above, he made no comments and Castiel was grateful for that. By the time Dean was done talking to Kevin, Castiel had no more tears to spare. He felt numb. In his mind, he was firmly resolved to fix what he broke. 

Kevin informed Dean that he could find a way to undo the spell.

“The expulsion could be undone by an angel with infallible virtue, supreme righteousness and inexhaustible loyalty to the Heavenly Host during the time of service,” Dean quoted to the rest of them. 

“Or some shit like that… Don’t know what it means, gotta ask him later,” Dean mumbled more to himself.

“He hasn’t figured out the spell yet.” Dean paused and raised his eyebrow at Gabriel before continuing, “Looks like a job for an archangel.” 

Gabriel had an unreadable expression on his face when he chugged down the remaining scotch in one gulp.

Kevin also passed Dean a ritual that could do them some good. He needed all kinds of stuffs for it though. Catnip, a sachet of rose petals, Angelica, Hyssop, the bone of an animal whose ancestors were the clean animals saved by Noah and finally a vile of an angel’s blood. When Gabriel inquired what the ritual was for, Castiel told him that it should re-establish the broken connection between Gabriel and Heaven. Gabriel didn’t budge an inch from his spot on the couch and absolutely refused to help. So, Dean drove for hours until he found a shop where they sold such herbs for protection. Castiel informed Dean that Noah’s clean animals included cattle, sheep and goats. So, Dean stopped by a wet market that sold live poultry. The Asian man slaughtered the goat in front of him –Dean felt quite guilty because it’s one thing to eat bone broths but another to watch a goat get chopped to pieces. He told the man that he wanted large leg bones and had to listen to the man lecture him on why the bones should be in small pieces to make delicious soup and the length of time he should let the soup simmer to fully extract the nutrients in and around the bones. Dean finally convinced the man to just sell him the large bones without cutting them. He left without buying any meat because he had lost appetite for any food that required goat meat as main ingredient. This tiring search for the right components cost them another entire day. Gabriel refused to offer his blood at first because he didn’t believe the ritual would work but Castiel talked him into giving it a shot. Sam and Dean were exhausted –having stayed up three days in a row- and took a nap. Gabriel may or may not have materialised a couple of women in bikinis and utilised one of the free rooms to cure his boredom. Castiel carried out the ritual but nothing noticeable happened.

“Okay. This is a waste of time. I could be in Caribbean, swimming with the sea turtles in Barbados,” Gabriel said as he jumped up from the couch.

“How does it feel?” Sam asked.

“What? Caribbean? Breathtaking. Beautiful beaches and let me tell you about the women…“ Gabriel whistled lewdly.

“No. How does it feel to run all the time?”

Gabriel’s expression abruptly turned icy. 

“You must have mistaken me for your friendly neighbourhood angel, Castiel. I don’t deal with your bullshit. Don’t be insolent with me,” Gabriel warned.

“Your devil-may-care attitude. You’re fooling no one, you know?” Sam said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes dramatically and opened his mouth to retort but he stopped when Castiel stood up and closed the distance between them. Castiel tilted his head and observed the archangel with an intense stare.

“What do you think you’re doing, laddie?” Gabriel asked tentatively.

“Are you hiding something from us, brother?” Castiel questioned.

The archangel snorted and looked away for a second before returning Castiel’s glare.

Castiel continued, “You have not been participating in our efforts. It seems to me like you knew from the start that none of the spells would work but you led us on anyway. What is it that you’re not telling us?” 

“You’ve been smoking pot, kiddo?” Gabriel huffed out a laugh that sounded too forceful. Too _fake_. "Don't blame me for your failures. Not my fault that your spells are good-for-nothing."

Castiel stood his ground and waited for an answer. Gabriel intended to fly away. To his horror, he didn’t move from where he stood. He tried again; he heard the rustle of his wings but nothing happened. He snapped his fingers but he still remained in the bunkers. Castiel then took a huge step backwards as though he anticipated a blow to the face and wanted to avoid it.

“What did you do?” Gabriel gritted his teeth.

“The ritual I performed successfully bound your plane of existence to mine. You can only be where I am.”

Gabriel got furious and the ground shook a little from the force of his rage. The lights blew out and mugs in the kitchen shattered. The windows cracked and the hunters could hear loud, howling wind outside. 

“Who’s to say I won’t incinerate you to a pile of ashes?” Gabriel hissed as he stepped forward. 

Castiel took a few more large steps backwards and said quickly, “You need me alive to break the binding spell. You need the fresh blood of the binder to contaminate the hold and you need me to read the reversal incantation. Only I hold the key to your freedom.” 

Gabriel turned to glare at the Winchesters this time. Sam and Dean could predict who the next targets were and took off running further into the bunkers. Gabriel couldn’t teleport anymore so he ran after them with Castiel following right behind with his pleas to spare the Winchesters. The hunters ran in separate directions with Dean running to the dungeon and Sam climbing into a secret passageway in the ground and locking the door behind him. Gabriel knew that he only needed one of them to force Castiel’s hand. So, he went after the easier target –in this instance, Dean. The older hunter ran into the dungeon and locked the metal door. Gabriel tore the door off the frame without difficulty and walked towards Dean, looking like a predator. Dean had his back pressed against the furthest wall and Castiel overtook the archangel and stood before Dean to protect him –knowing that Gabriel wouldn’t kill him if he wanted to break the binding. But Gabriel had no qualms of hurling Castiel across the room with a swift motion of his wrist and holding him against the wall. He was taken aback when Sam showed up behind him. Sam lighted a bundle of matches and threw it on the ground which immediately blazed into a huge circle of holy fire. The circle covered half the room, leaving no chances for the archangel to escape. Gabriel located a small opening on the ground of the corridor closest to the open dungeon. He could see now that Sam crawled into the narrow passage with a plan.

“Jesus! Give a man a warning, will you?” Dean said to Castiel as he panted for breath.

“I did inform you of the plan,” Castiel answered, equally out of breath.

“Hey, I did the heavy lifting here,” Sam huffed out.

“Yeah. Thanks, Sam. Perfect timing,” Dean said with a big smile.

“You lying scumbag!” Gabriel spat out.

Castiel smirked, “I learnt a thing or two from my friends.”


	30. Walk A Tightrope

The boys let the archangel stew in his own juice for a while before they interrogated him. Almost half a day stuck in a dungeon was enough to infuriate Gabriel to the extent of answering their questions to get out of there. 

“Spill the beans. Why did you want to run?” Dean asked.

“I don’t have to answer to you, you hairless ape,” Gabriel spat out.

“You’re close to blasphemy,” Castiel warned from behind Dean. 

He then stepped as close as he could to the ring of fire and spoke with resignation.

“Gabriel, you’ve had one foot out the door ever since you got here. You are the only one who could revive the grace of the angels and arise them once again.”

“No, I’m not. You heard him. Angel with virtue, loyalty and righteousness crap? That’s not me!” Gabriel snapped. 

“Yes, you are. You used to lead your garrison--” 

Gabriel didn’t let him finish. 

“And then I fled to Earth. I left.”

The room was filled with silence for a moment as the words sink in. 

“Who do you think stayed, Castiel? Who led the army to the very end?”

“Michael,” Castiel answered softly.

“Michael?” Dean asked in shock.

“But I brought him down with me. He’s in the cage,” Sam said as he understood the implication.

“I hauled Sam from the cage when I was an angel. It’s not easy but it’s not entirely impossible,” Castiel suggested.

“Yeah, and let me guess, you’re gonna throw my ass down there to raise Michael. Oh wait, he’s with Lucy. Awesome! The devil I tricked. Won’t that be a lot of fun?” Gabriel retorted.

“So, that’s why you wanted to zap out?” Sam asked incredulously.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Catch up, dimwit.”

“Cas, can I talk to you outside?” Dean asked gravely.

Castiel and the Winchesters walked out of the dungeon, ignoring Gabriel’s demands to douse the fire. Once they were in the living room, -far enough that the archangel couldn’t hear them- Dean was the first to speak.

“Look, I’m sorry, Cas. But we can’t go through with that.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked. “I’ve done it before. For Sam.” 

“And I’m grateful for that, Cas. I really am. But you weren’t exactly very successful considering you didn’t raise _all_ of me,” Sam said solemnly.

“I may have made a mistake. But Gabriel is more powerful than I am. He can pull it off.”

“We can’t take that risk,” Dean replied. “This is too big, Cas. If he makes a mistake, he might let Lucifer out and we know how that will play out.” 

“Gabriel will not re-establish the Apocalypse, if that’s what you’re worried about. He has no intentions of harming Earth.”

“Maybe. But I still don’t trust him,” Dean said.

“But do you trust me?” Castiel asked, eyes swivelling from one brother to the other.

“Not with the lives of 7 billion people. No,” Dean said as a matter of fact.

Castiel flinched at that. Although he knew that he had a track record of irreparable mistakes, it still hurt to hear him say it to his face.

“This isn’t about you. Or the angels. By some miracle, I managed to take the wheel that day and jump into the pit. If he escapes again, I don’t think we can box him back. We can’t take that risk, Cas. I’m sorry,” Sam explained.

Castiel probably should have expected this from the hunters but truth be told, he didn’t. He was quite shocked to be dismissed that easily. He wholly understood how important it is to keep Lucifer caged. He didn’t just rebel against Heaven to avert the Apocalypse the first time around. He did it _again_ and devastated half of Heaven to maintain peace on Earth. He has killed his brothers and sisters for the sake of the 7 billion people that Dean is concerned about. So, there can’t be another angel that cares more about warding off the Armageddon. However, it’s a risk he had to take. He owes it to his family. To his Father. He counted upon the Winchesters to grasp his compulsion to make amends considering that the brothers taught him the value of family. What wouldn’t the Winchesters do for each other? Dean would voluntarily open the Devil’s gate had it been to keep his brother alive. Sam would go another round with all the demons he ever encountered if it meant he could save the ones he loved like Jessica or his parents. These hunters have gone to the end of the world to avenge their mother’s death and honour their father’s fight. So, it was baffling to hear their outright refusal to lend a helping hand. Maybe they didn’t consider Castiel part of the family despite their previous claims. Again, Castiel was faced with a difficult decision in impossible circumstances and he found himself standing alone once more.

 

*****

 

When Sam walked into the library and rearranged the ancient books in their respective places in the shelves, he felt a little guilty for brushing off the fallen angel’s hope. Castiel looked worse than a kicked puppy and Sam could relate to the helplessness he felt. Hell, he’d been there before; at the other end of mistrust, feeling the overwhelming need to fix what he wrecked. He knows what it felt like to be broken beyond repair, the abomination in his family. That was why Sam found it easier to forgive Castiel than Dean did. Even when he heard about Castiel’s creepy mind control and how he bashed Dean’s face in, he slowly inched his way to forgiving the angel. He was furious at first when Dean shook the incident off like it meant nothing. Dean -as usual- played it cool but Sam noticed the nightmares Dean had. The way he’d wake up gasping for breath and touch his face restlessly before lowering himself cautiously on the bed. That and the fact that Castiel ran away right after had made Sam very angry but within days, he found himself on the verge of understanding. He couldn’t exactly blame Castiel for being Naomi’s marionette. He wasn’t aware of it and he wouldn’t hurt Dean on purpose. The same way Sam was once possessed by Meg or Lucifer and took it out on his brother. He came to a realisation that Castiel was as messed up as he was and it wasn’t his fault entirely. Circumstances and bad choices led him to who he became. Despite making awful decisions, Castiel did it out of good intentions and Sam could relate. So, he felt quite apologetic to blatantly refuse to help him. But then again, Dean was right. The innocent lives of people can’t be jeopardised for the sake of one friend. They’ve come too far and suffered too much to turn back and start over. He just hoped that Castiel would understand and accept their reasoning. 

 

*****

 

After the conversation, Dean entered his room and shut the door. He was too tired after days of trying to find a way to bring down Metatron and coming to a dead end. Castiel may not see it as a dead end but it is, as far as Dean is concerned. There is absolutely no way that they’re attempting something so dangerous. As he lay on his bed and tried to drift off, he remembered the events of 2014. Events that haven’t happened, wouldn’t happen and should never be allowed to happen under any circumstances. He felt a sickening knot in his stomach at the memory of Lucifer wearing Sam as a meat suit. He remembered it too vividly for his liking. The sound that Dean’s neck made when it snapped. The smirk on Sam’s face when he turned around to find another replica. The way he calmly explained the absurdity of fighting fate. 

_Whatever you do, you will always end up... here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, **we** will always end up... here. _

The words rung in his ears and he opened his eyes in fear. He tried to will the velvety voice away as it dripped into his mind like poison. Then, he recalled Castiel, holding a gun in his hand and shredded faith in his smile. How he had lost everything but kept fighting for the sake of the Winchesters. How he popped pills to keep the depressing thoughts and awful feelings at bay. That version of Castiel was heart-wrenching. He who once was a fearsome angel, who sacrificed everything in the name of righteousness was nothing but a shell of who he used to be. He had lost his purpose and chastity -and probably his sanity- because he chose to lay his fierce loyalty to humanity. His grace was carved out to make room for all the burdens of his heart. The irony of watching the one who wasn't supposed to feel at all getting himself stoned because he felt too much was painful. That ruthless version of Dean in the future didn’t give a shit about his best friend walking into a trap. Didn’t have an ounce of loyalty for his old comrade. That person was everything Dean never wanted to be. Hell, he had never even imagined turning out to be that sort of man. It took him a lot to not stab that Dean in the neck for his betrayal. 

It got harder and harder to breathe as his mind wandered back into the dark corners where he stored away that terrifying possibility. Croatoan virus, infected people, the pain and gloom that drifted everywhere. He remembers it all and the minute Castiel mentioned Michael, Dean was sent reeling back to that bitter period of time. He isn’t going to lie. He is scared shitless just thinking about it. He never told anyone about it. Not even Sam. But Dean would rather let Castiel leave them than letting Zachariah’s portrayal of the future take place.


	31. No Glory In This Warrior

He shouldn’t. He _really_ shouldn’t. But in the long list of things that the Winchesters should never have done for each other –such as a) Dean selling his soul for Sam, b) Sam killing Lilith to avenge Dean’s death, c) John spending decades to find his wife’s murderer, d) Mary making a deal with Azazel to save John… and really, the list could go on- Castiel has learnt that no matter the circumstances, the one thing you don’t give up on is family. Dean taught him that. Every time he prayed to Castiel to keep his brother safe, he realised the extent that the older Winchester would go to protect his own. So, Castiel knows how his actions will be detrimental to their friendship. But he also knows that if it was either Sam or Dean in his place fighting for the other, they would do the same.

With that knowledge, he walks into the dark dungeon. He hears the fierce rustling of the wings even before he pulled the door open. Gabriel must have been trying really hard to put out the fire on his own. But there’s a reason why holy fire is used to trap angels with magnificent strength in their device of flight; you can’t douse it with air. The moment Castiel tugs on the heavy metal door, -wincing at the screeching sound it makes as he’s afraid he’ll wake one of the brothers up- Gabriel quickly turns around and sets a death glare at the approaching figure.

Before Gabriel can get a word in, Castiel puts a finger on his lips to indicate to Gabriel to maintain the silence.

“I’m going to let you out, Gabriel. This could go wrong in so many ways but I’m going to let you out,” he says as he spins the wheel on a safe locker in the darkest corner of the room. 

He removes a bowl and stands as close to the holy fire as he can.

“These are the elements of the binding spell,” he holds the bowl upright with one hand as he points at it with another. “I’ll let you out from the blazing ring and from the conjuration.”

Gabriel probably should shut up but he can’t help the suspicion. 

“Why?” he asks with a distrustful look on his face.

“Because I have faith in you, brother. I think you care about the angels and humanity as much as I do.”

“I beg to differ—“

Castiel interjects, “Gabriel, I’m releasing you. You could disappoint me by crawling into a corner of the world and hiding for another century. Or you could do the right thing and release Michael to end this damnation for our brothers and sisters. Either way, whatever happens from here is on _you_.”

Castiel places the bowl on the floor, crouches down as he removes a pocket knife from his trench coat and makes a shallow cut on his wrist. As he squeezes his wrist and drips his blood into the bowl, Gabriel swallows in discomfort. He isn’t so sure about leaving now if it meant facing hellfire.

“So, you let me out of the holy fire and throw me in inferno?” Gabriel questions.

“If an angel can pull someone out of the cage, an archangel can do a lot more,” Castiel mutters as he wipes his hand on his trench coat.

He reads the reversal incantation and Gabriel feels light all of a sudden. He didn’t realise it before but it used to feel like something weighed him down like an anchor. He’s aware now that it must have been the spell binding him to one plane of existence. Gabriel feels more and more nervous as time ticks because he’s not completely free once he’s out of here. He will have to make a decision. He will be tied down to his conscience. 

“You know, your buddies are gonna kill you once they find out what you’re up to,” Gabriel says.

Maybe he can just sit inside the loop of fire a little while longer. He’ll be safe at least.

“And that will be my price to pay. I will accept any punitive actions they deem appropriate for me. This is my final duty to Heaven. This is my atonement,” Castiel says before he leaves the dungeon to fetch a pail of water.

Gabriel squirms as he tries to think of a solution. He can just fly off to some place where they can never find him but he has to live with his conscience and nothing hurts more than that small voice that calls him a bastard son. He didn’t feel awful when he left the first time because he believed that abandoning his family was better than watching them kill each other. But what is his excuse now? 

“You friggin’ screw things up and now, I have to clean up your mess?” Gabriel asks angrily as Castiel returns.

“Sshhh…” Castiel hushes before leaning closer to the door to hear for any signs of the Winchesters rousing.

When he hears silence fall again, he moves closer to Gabriel and explains, “I have made bad choices that led me to where I am and what I’ve become. But my motives were pure. I stood up and took action to save the world. To save my family. And I gave everything I had over and over again. What about you?” 

He tips the pail forward, splashing water on the ground and extinguishing the flame. 

“I’m holding up my end, Gabriel. Now, it’s your call,” Castiel says right before Gabriel disappears.

After that, Castiel walks into the living room and drops on the couch as he watches TV. He will have to face the inevitable soon once the brothers arouse from slumber. Until then, he chooses to enjoy the last, simple moments of staying in the bunkers. The soft cushion on his back, the taste of beer and the discovery channel portraying the evolution of human beings. The human race, such magnificent creatures. Intelligent, compassionate and are one of the only creation to protect and nurture their young for decades. He wonders for a moment how Sam and Dean will be like as parents. He likes to think that they will be great at it, just like they are great at most things. He has seen the paternal instincts in Dean from the way he watches out for his younger brother. He wants them to be happy, to have a home and a family to go back to. He wants only good things for his favourite human beings. That was the exact thought that made him listen to Crowley and extract souls from Purgatory. 

_’For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this.’_

He remembers saying that to Dean before the hunter wheeled a loaded cart covered with a cloth into the room where Alastair was imprisoned. His mind drifts back to the expression on Dean’s face when Uriel told him to interrogate and torture Alastair. 

The plea in his eyes as he said, _’No. No way. You can't ask me to do this, Cas. Not this.’_

Castiel meant it when he said he would give anything to not put Dean in that situation. Which was why he never had it in him to go to Dean for help when he needed it. Everything after spiralled down pretty fast. He was arrogant and too content when he thought the battle was over after they averted Armageddon. Now, he sees it for what it is. He won the fight but lost the war. 

The man in the television –a doctor- explained the nature of blushing in human beings. How humans are the only ones capable of involuntarily showing embarrassment and revealing their innermost desire or discomfort through the dilation of facial veins. 

“How remarkable…” Castiel muttered under his breath.

He has done a lot to be embarrassed about. He wonders if the shame paints his face in shades of red too. He highly doubts it. And when the doctor proceeds to explain the violence in human nature, Castiel comes up with a list of different ways the Winchesters will torment and kill him when they find out what he just did.


	32. This is War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating in a long time. I was busy with other stuffs. Thank you for your patience.

Castiel enters his room for one last time to say goodbye to the place that, somewhere along the line, became his safe haven. He sits at the corner of his bed and looks around. His eyes catch the blue suit that was previously owned by Jimmy Novak. He’s currently wearing a gray t-shirt with sweatpants underneath his trench coat that keeps him warm. That suit has seen good and bad days and holds sentimental value to Castiel. So, he swiftly changes into the suit and wears his trench coat on top as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. He looks older. And more worn out. The blood stain on the right hand side of his coat stands out against the dirty brown. If he still had his grace, he would have removed the stain. He wouldn’t look a day older from the time that he first occupied his vessel. He would still feel worn out though. It’s the thought of his grace and the emptiness he feels without it that later knocks an avalanche of other thoughts in his mind. 

_'These were never trials, Castiel. This is a spell. And what I'm taking from you now -your essence, your Grace- is the last piece.'_

Spells usually need to be reversed. _Usually_. Some can be broken by the blood or other forms of the perpetrator. In this case, the perpetrator might just be Castiel instead of Metatron since he committed the sin. Maybe, just maybe, Michael will need to return Castiel’s grace for the spell to be reversed. And Castiel to be unharmed for that to work. He decides that he can’t wait for the Winchesters to wake up. They wouldn’t let him leave. Or worse comes to worst, they wouldn’t let him live. So, he quickly hurries to the front door, unbolts the lock and shuts the door behind him as he runs as far as his legs can carry. By the time he reaches the bus stop, he’s panting for breath and he feels sweat dripping down his neck. He needs to put his mind to rest so he takes the bus to visit the one person who would have an idea of what to do.

*****

Gabriel didn’t go to Caribbean as he planned. He goes to a small church in a remote area instead. He sits on a pew and just stares ahead. He doesn’t know why he’s there. He just feels the urge to pray. He hasn’t visited a church or prayed ever since he took off from Heaven. So, sitting there makes him feel uncomfortable like he doesn’t belong in a holy place. He decides to leave the place but stops short when a priest walks in and gives a surprised look.

“Oh, I didn’t notice you there, son. Are you here for a confession?”

“Nope. I’m leaving as we speak,” Gabriel says as he stands up and walks to the front door.

“Did I interrupt your prayers?”

“Nope,” Gabriel calls out.

Just as he is about to open the door and step out, the priest questions, “Why were you here then?”

Gabriel halts in his stride and considers answering that question. But not knowing the answer himself, he just turns the knob, pushes the door open and vanishes right after the door shuts on him.

He finds himself standing at the edge of the sea, staring ahead into nothingness. He hears the waves that hit the shore relentlessly and feels the cool water brush his feet, tempting him to jump in. This is where it all began. Mankind. It’s ironic, he thinks, now that at the end of all things, he finds himself at the very beginning of this crazy, marvellous story. He sort of wishes he could start over, maybe be a better brother and son. A better being. He knows where this road leads him to, he knows the path he will _inevitably_ choose –though it has less to do with the lack of choices and more to do with his own conscience. The Winchesters, two little bastards who the world wouldn’t spare second glances at but yet the most important of them all. He hates them for being so significant. Or maybe he hates himself for not being significant enough. He can’t quite tell. But if there had ever been a cause to die for, this might just be it. The fight to return his brothers and sisters to their rightful places. He knows where he’ll end up next. 

He can’t help but take a deep sigh and moan, “The things you gotta do for your friggin’ family.”

*****

Sam wakes up first. It’s completely silent outside so he thinks everyone must still be asleep. He checks the time on his phone and it reads 0913. Dean usually wakes up before 7 am. He must be really exhausted if he’s sleeping in today. Sam takes his time in the shower, letting his tense muscles relax under the hot water. The bunkers definitely have better water pressure and temperature compared to the cheap motels they used to crash in. So, you can’t quite blame him for taking half an hour to wash his hair and soak under the water. When he finally steps out, the place is still quiet and he finds it unsettling. So, he walks out and sees no one in the living room. Castiel is sleeping longer than usual too. He marks it off as the post-revelation depression of not being able to revert his mistakes. Since he’s the first one up, it is his responsibility to make sure the archangel is making himself comfortable –as comfortable as he can in that ring of fire- and not raising havoc. He pulls the screeching metal door open and holds his breath as he tries to blink away what he sees. Nothing but darkness. No blaze to light up the room, definitely no hostile archangel to spout threats at him. He feels the panic rise from deep within and instead of inspecting the place further, he does the first thing that comes to his mind whenever he is faced with imminent doom; he runs to Dean. 

“DEAN!” he yells as he runs along the corridor to his room.

“DEAN, WAKE UP!” 

Before he reaches the threshold, Dean appears in front of him with a shotgun in hand and Sam nearly knocks him over as he stops himself in time. 

“What? What is it?” Dean’s voice wavers, partly from the abrupt awakening but mostly from the adrenaline rush that Sam's shout had caused.

“Gabriel,” he pants for breath as he still isn’t in his best health. “Gabriel’s missing.”

Dean does the first thing that crosses his mind which is to get to Castiel before Gabriel rips him to shreds for keeping him as a bound prisoner.

“CAS!” Dean shouts as he enters his room.

He feels the bile rising in his throat when the realisation hits hard. 

“Cas?” he tries again quietly.

“Cas let him out?” Sam asks and Dean can hear the growing anger in his brother's voice.

“I don’t know. I mean, he wouldn’t, would he?” Dean asks expectantly.

Sam just gives him a look that quite obviously screams, _YES, HE WOULD!_

They both make their way to the dungeon and Sam turns on the light switch. They see the charred mark that the ring of fire made and the dampness on the floor. There’s a bucket toppled nearby and puddles of water where the floor is uneven. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean mutters under his breath.

“You know what this means, right? He just set us up. Gabriel is going to release Michael and quite possibly Lucifer too and everything, _every single fucking thing_ we did, it all goes down the drain. People died for this, Dean. A lot of people died. Ash, Ellen, Jo—“

“I know, Sam! I was there too,” Dean snaps.

“Then you know that a lot more are going to die. Most probably, every single being on Earth.” 

Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that because he knows exactly the size of the cataclysm bound to happen. But he doesn’t know what to do about it. Sam follows him out of the dungeon and calls out to him. Dean doesn’t turn around and keeps walking instead. 

“Dean. Dean, wait!” Sam overtakes him and stops him short.

“I can’t do it all over again, Dean. _I can’t,_ ” Sam says quietly and he hates the way his voice trembles.

Sam can’t save the world again because he can’t barely save himself these days. He’s not as strong and agile as he used to be. Trapping Lucifer that one time was a miracle. And that’s the thing about miracles. They don’t happen twice. For a moment, Sam thinks he hears the quiet voice of Lucifer in the back of his head.

_I do believe I’ve got you, bunk buddy._

He knows it’s just a past memory that resurfaced but the realisation that this could happen for real sends an overwhelming, shuddering fear through him. 

*****

Castiel finds himself knocking on the door of Garth’s boat house. Kevin opens the door slightly and shoots holy water from his water gun. Castiel should have seen it coming because this is very predictable of Kevin. 

“Not a demon,” Castiel grumbles.

“What do you want?” Kevin asks with a hard expression on his face.

He obviously hasn’t gotten over their last meeting whereby Castiel grabbed him by the collar and spewed some threat.

“The angel tablet. Did you find anything?”

“I did. Wait, where’s Sam and Dean?”

“They’ve got their hands full. Demon infestation in a town. Since the matter at hand is concerning _me_ and is of utmost importance _to me_ , they asked me to pay you a visit instead.”

Castiel surprises himself with how skilfully he handled the situation and how fluently he articulated the lie because Kevin seems to be convinced enough to yank the door open and let him in. Lying is an art, like all others. Practice makes perfect.

“Well, I already told Dean about the angel to undo the spell--” Kevin starts.

“Yes, I am aware. How is the spell undone? Are there any rituals or reversal incantations that I should know about?”

“No, not really. If the rightful angel sits on the throne, purity and grace will vanquish the sinner.”

“And the sinner is me?”

“That, I’m not so sure. It’s either you or Metatron.”

“How long are you going to take to decipher the tablet? What have you been doing all this while?” Castiel snaps.

“Excuse me? You're kidding, right? It took me months to translate the demon tablet. You think this is gonna be any easier?” Kevin retorts.

“When will you finish the task?” Castiel asks with a resigned tone.

“I can’t tell. Some parts are harder to understand than others. But as for the sinner, I think whoever the chosen angel is, he will know who to obliterate.”

Castiel just nods solemnly. He has no idea whose head is destined for the chopping block. It doesn’t bother him that it could be his head instead of Metatron’s. What bothers him is that he has to find a way to stay alive until Michael can kill him -if he has to- to revive the angels. But as of now, there are more urgent issues to handle like Kevin attempting to dial someone subtly with a hand in his pocket, pressing the keys on his phone.

“I need to pee,” Kevin says as he tilts his head in the direction of the loo.

For a second, Castiel considers to call Kevin's bluff. He considers explaining his predicament and maybe, Kevin will understand and cooperate with him. But then again, he knows where Kevin's loyalty lies and he can't blame him for it.

“Yes, I will wait right here,” Castiel answers.

With that, Kevin disappears into his closet-sized room. Castiel takes off immediately. 

*****

Gabriel’s next stop happens to be at the edge of an ocean of flaming rage. He sees souls that walk into the fire looking like people but when they resurface, they are screaming and screeching as they are scalded and disfigured by the flame. They don’t look human anymore. They are more like grotesque, otherworldly animals. Ugly, horrible, bleeding fury and disgust. These souls are scorched from within too. He can see, these are people that chose the path to hell. Psychotic monsters disguising as people and are there by choice, smashing each other as they dive deeper into the lava, hissing and gnashing and god, those horrible screams are indescribable.

Gabriel carefully threads past and opens a door that leads to two other doors. He opens the door to his right and finds a quiet hallway with an extremely long queue. He can’t see the end of it but people here look lifeless. This must be the shallow level of torment. Gabriel has never quite visited hell but he is sure of one thing. Something as dangerous as Lucifer should be in the deepest, lowest circle of hell. So, he closes this door and opens the one on his left. This one has a huge, torn picture of Crowley with a Nazi salute and a nasty smirk. It looks skewed to the side like it is about to fall off. He can almost imagine Crowley forcing the souls to scream, _‘Heil, mein Führer!’_ at his presence. He has a foul feeling that this is Crowley’s room. But when he peeps closer, he sees claw marks on the picture like someone intended to rip it to shreds. 

_’Abaddon’_ , he thinks. 

The last thing he needs is to fight an entire army of tormented souls and despicable demons. Or even worse, the Knight of Hell herself. She’s probably the Queen of Hell now and that thought doesn’t make him feel any better. He already has a task that will take the life out of him when he gets to the bottom of this -quite literally. So, he closes the door and returns to the unquenchable sea of fire and notices that the light of his grace has obviously attracted the attention of the abominations. These distorted, hideous creatures leap out of the fire and swim to the end to get to him. He zaps out without a place in mind and finds himself in a pit of darkness. He can smell the smoke of their torment and he instantly realises he isn’t alone. His grace illuminates the passage ahead and he sees cages. Rows and rows of cages. The tortured cries and agonising howls for help thundered from the cages and echoed all at once in his presence. These are human souls; mostly human anyway. Unlike the rest, these souls glow brightly in response to his grace. 

_‘Hope’_ , he comprehends. 

They still have hope and it shines out of them as they try to reach out to him. He feels his heart clench at the thought. They think Gabriel will raise them from perdition. They think he is their Holy Saviour. He doesn’t know what these people did to deserve a spot in Hell but he even caught sight of crying children. Maybe they sold their souls to crossroad demons. Maybe Abaddon is keeping innocent souls to serve some of her still-concealed-but-definitely-wicked purposes. But he numbs the sensory overload from the souls that seek his grace in desperation and continues marching forward to the end of the hallway.

*****

Just as Dean tries to think of something to calm his brother down, his phone rings in his room. He runs to his room and grabs it in time to see two missed calls from Kevin. He calls back immediately.

“Kevin, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Did you send Castiel here on your behalf?” Kevin whispers.

“What? No. No, I didn’t. He’s there?”

“Yup. He came asking about the angel tablet.”

“No matter what he says, don’t give him the tablet. You hear me? Don’t give it to him. And keep him there until I come.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Kevin speaks in a hushed but exasperated tone.

“Talk to him. Tell him nonsense about the tablet. Handcuff him to something. I don’t know, do something,” Dean says urgently as he picks up his car keys and walks out of his room with Sam following right behind.

Kevin peeks out of his room to find no one in sight. 

He looks around quickly and says, “Well, too late.”

*****

Gabriel unlatches another door and steps in. He hears the clanking of chains, the excruciating screams that he’s getting used to as he spends more time in Hell and the sound of whips splitting flesh. But as he approaches down the spiralling staircase, he has countless black eyes focused on him. Demons. This is where they train to torment souls. He sees the racks with bodies on them. Some with their eyeballs and insides carved out, some sliced into pieces. And he sees the ones holding the knives and whips with the pitch black of their hollow eyes staring at him and the rage swirling around them in black smoke. But then, there are also quite a number with tiny sparks. Dim but still existent. Sparks that tenderly extend towards him, trying to decipher who he is. He wonders for a moment if this was how Dean looked at his time in hell. If Castiel saw Dean’s glowing soul -despite the blood in his hands and sins that he can’t wash away with holy water- right before hauling him up. Maybe that’s why Castiel chose to give his loyalty to Dean because he witnessed more than corruption in that soul. Maybe he witnessed humanity reaching out to him with a curious glow. Maybe he sensed the good intentions that led Dean’s soul to where it was. Before he could come up with his next action, he hears a fierce growl from the centre of the spiral. He didn’t notice the creature before since that dark being just manifested out of black smoke. The growl reverberates and spreads like poison. Suddenly, he feels hands and claws grabbing at him.

He sighs deeply. 

“I knew this was too easy,” he grumbles as he pulls out his angel blade and smites the nearest demon. 

He has to battle swarms of demons and come out on top.


	33. The Final Countdown

There’s a knock at the door. The secret knock that they have decided upon, followed by continuous pounding and a shout from Dean, “OPEN THE DOOR, KEVIN!" He opens the door slightly with the chain still attached and squirts holy water from his water pistol.

Dean just glares at him and says, “Seriously?”

But surprisingly, it’s Sam who is spewing threats this time.

“If you don’t open the door right this second, Kevin, I swear you’ll be wishing we were really demons because I can do a lot worse to you.”

“Alright, alright,” Kevin replies with exasperation. 

He unlatches the chain and yanks the door open.

“Haven’t your mother taught you? It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Kevin mumbles under his breath as he closes the door behind them.

“Yeah? Well, she’s dead!” Sam snaps.

“So is mine! Tortured and killed by Crowley because you guys wanted to shut the gates of Hell but never did. And you said…” He points at Dean, “You said I’d get a way out after that but now I have another freaking tablet to risk my life for! ”

Sam grabs him by the shirt and hauls him up a little. Kevin lets out a yelp and holds himself against the hunter on tiptoes. 

“Tough. Some of us have it worse,” Sam snarls dangerously.

“Sam, that’s enough!” Dean says sternly.

Sam glares a little longer at Kevin but slowly lets go. The expression on Kevin’s face is a concoction of anger, petulance and fear.

Dean approaches the prophet and places a hand on his shoulder. Kevin brushes his hand off.

"Look, kid, I'm not gonna lie to you. I really thought you could go back to the way things were before. But the kind of lives we live, I guess there's never really an escape. I guess you just... You gotta keep going."

Kevin opens his mouth to retort but Dean puts a hand up and silences him. 

"I know it's unfair. Trust me, I know. For what it's worth, if I could do this differently, I would."

Kevin just sighs deeply and says, "Castiel came over earlier. Said you guys sent him to deal with the tablet cause you were busy clearing out a demon infestation."

"And? Did he take the tablet?" Sam urges.

"No. The tablet's with me. He didn't even ask for it."

"Then, why was he here?" Dean questions.

"He wanted to know if there was any ritual or spell to undo the whole banishment thing."

"And?" Sam pushes again.

"And what else? I told him there's nothing like that on the tablet. That when the rightful angel takes the throne, he will know who to vanquish. And he asked if he were the sinner in this case. I said I don't know. Could be him or Metatron."

"That's all? He leaves after that?" Sam asks a little calmly this time.

"Yes. I told him I need to pee and gave you a call. When I looked again, he was gone."

Sam looks at his brother who happens to be wearing an unreadable expression.

"Now what?" he asks the older hunter.

"Now we wait."

*****

As Gabriel makes his way through hell, demons just keep appearing out of nowhere. Not that they could do much damage to him. He’s an archangel and a trickster. He heals quickly and is quite immortal. The only thing that could kill him is the archangel blade in his hands that is glistening with demon blood. At some point, he just replicated himself to form five of him and took down demons from every angle. But that sort of trick uses up energy and he’s trying to conserve as much as he can for Lucifer. He knows he’s not going to get out of the cage with Michael without an ultimate showdown and he needs to be in his best form. Unfortunately, there are literally millions of souls down here that are determined to get a piece of him. He imagines Castiel leading an army of angels down here to save Dean. To stop the righteous man from breaking the first seal. How disappointing it must have been to realise he was a little too late. Gabriel is literally a one man army. He can form an entire troop with nothing but the power of his mind. So, it doesn’t take him 40 years -based on the way time passes in Hell- to get to the bottom of this. It only took him a year.

*****

Castiel uses the last of his emergency cash that Dean gave him to buy a bus ticket to Ilchester, Maryland. In the pocket of his trench coat is a bottle of holy oil that he obtained from a church on his way to the bus stop. The priest was kind enough to give him a bottle of it for free but only after he made Castiel promise to become an active member of the church and attend the mass on Sundays. Castiel felt a little guilty to lie in front of the statue of Jesus but he knew he didn’t have a choice.

He puts his hand on top of the pocket and carefully holds the bottle in place just in case it drops as the bus takes a steep turn. He remembers the time when he travelled by road for days to keep the angel tablet safe. Back then, he was alone but he was determined. He thought he was doing the right thing. He had a purpose. Now, he’s on a bus with his forehead against the window as he watches the fog on the glass with every exhaled breath. He’s alone again but this time, he truly feels lonely and clueless. 

*****

“DEAN!” Sam bursts out one night.

Dean flails his arms as he almost drops off the couch by the sudden outburst. Sam stands next to the couch with his hand on his hips, looking like he was about to murder someone.

“Jesus… You almost gave me a heart attack, Sam.”

“What the hell are we doing?”

“I was sleeping. Not sure about you,” Dean retorts.

“Exactly. It has been three days, Dean. Three fucking days and we are staying in Garth’s boat house, cleaning guns instead of finding Castiel.”

“What do you plan to do if we find him? Tear him a new one? That sounds real helpful.”

“I don’t know. I just… Maybe he knows a way to stop Gabriel. We have to do something, Dean. I can’t just sit here and wait for the end of the world.”

Dean sighs deeply and pushes himself up on the couch. He rubs his eyes and looks Sam in the eye. Sam is furious and twitchy with the need to do _something_. Dean, on the other hand, is exhausted. The kind of fatigue that runs bone deep. He turned 34 this year but feels a hundred years old. He understands Sam’s agitation but he also knows that there is nothing he can do about it. At least not yet. If Lucifer walks the earth again, then Dean would voluntarily be Michael’s meat suit to cast Lucifer back to where he belongs in hell. That’s his plan so far. So, Dean has finally given up on getting angry and frustrated. He just wants to rest. One night is all he’s asking for because tomorrow, all hell might break loose –literally- and he needs to be ready to protect Sam and Kevin in any and all ways.

“There is no stopping Gabriel. The thing is we don’t even know if he’s rescuing Michael from the cage. For all we know, he’s probably having an orgy under the moonlight on a Caribbean beach,” Dean says to brush away a little of Sam’s worries.

“But what if--?”

Dean interjects before Sam could start ranting again.

“If it happens, we’ll come up with something, alright? The way we always do. Now go to bed. Tomorrow might be rough.”

“Dean, how could you be so calm?” Sam snaps.

Dean isn’t calm. Not at all. Not when he knows that Lucifer is going to head straight for Sam if he ever gets out. Not when he still has the vivid image of Sam drinking demon blood etched in his mind. Not when he still has nightmares about Lucifer –in Sam’s body- breaking his neck somewhere in the foreseeable future. He can’t explain this to Sam. He hasn’t told anyone of Zachariah’s vision of the future. At first, he thought it was unnecessary to relive that nightmare-inducing vision by telling someone. After all, they had averted the Apocalypse. Now, he doesn’t want to scare his brother anymore than he already is. 

_’And most important’, his father used to say, ‘watch out for Sammy.’_

It’s his job to not just keep his brother alive and physically safe but also mentally healthy. And if refraining from telling the truth will help his brother’s sanity, then he’ll bite his tongue till the end of his days.

“I’m tired, Sammy. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, okay? Now get some sleep.”

“You’re un-fucking-believable!” Sam storms off in a huff. 

Dean smiles bitterly and slides back to a horizontal position on the couch. He closes his eyes and remembers his life when he was eight, when the hardest thing to do was to give Sam his portion of dinner and stay hungry when they run out of food. Or waking up in the middle of the night to find Sam crying and shivering in fear after a nightmare and putting him to sleep despite the weight under his own eyelids. Or washing the sheets when Sam wets the bed. There was a time he used to get so frustrated with Sam. Who is he kidding? He still does. But the menial chores that he hated doing back then are memories he holds dear now. 

Before he let sleep wash over him, he does the only thing he could think of doing to stop his world from crumbling under his feet all over again. He prays.

*****

Castiel walks for an hour before he reaches his destination. By the time he stands before St. Mary's Convent, he is out of breath and weak. The ache in his stomach is now unforgiving. He is famished. He hasn't eaten anything in almost three days other than the bread he managed to buy and stuff himself with the day before. He tries to keep his mind off his physical discomfort and needs as he walks into the Convent. This is where Lucifer rose the first time. If Gabriel opens the main gate of the cage, this would be the way out. He can't take the risk of letting Lucifer walk free from here if it happens. He doesn't think he can actually stop Lucifer now that he's only human but he has to try. He owes that much to the Winchesters. So, he pours a circle of holy oil on the floor and saves some in the bottle. If he has to throw a Molotov again, he would. At least it will distract Lucifer for long enough and Michael can cast him back into the cage. The plan will most likely fail but not trying is not an option. Now, it’s time to wait.

*****

Gabriel is covered in demon blood by the end of it. He finds it repulsive and immediately cleans himself off with a snap of his fingers. He’s at the end of the long, spiralling staircase and from where he stands, he can see the piles of rotting corpses. He’s not even sure if he could address them as corpses since they’re only made of souls. And he doesn’t know how smiting works in hell. Maybe these abominations will revive in a moment. That’s the point of torture, right? There’s no permanent death. So, he quickly crawls his way through a hole underneath into another pit of darkness. This place isn’t like the rest. It’s not just the absence of light but also the absence of heat. This place is so cold that Gabriel can feel his vessel shiver. He instantly increases the incandescence of his Grace to keep the vessel warm and lead the way. He’s worn out and not as strong as he wishes he was but he keeps going anyway until he reaches a wall. A wall that isn’t like the rest around him. The structure around him is like a cave, slippery and filled with icicles. This wall is a flat surface and just one single touch of his fingertips sends a jolt through his body. Upon closer inspection, he can see ancient Enochian symbols and has a sinking feeling when he realises that this is in fact, one side of the cage. It’s icy cold and he notices frostbites on his fingers when he removes it from the wall. There aren’t any seals left to break since the Winchesters and Lilith have broken them all years ago. All he needs to do is draw the Enochian symbol to open the portal. He makes a small cut on his wrist with the blade and smears his blood on the wall.

That’s when he hears it. A familiar voice at the back of his head. Dean’s prayers. He slows down a little from his finger painting –with blood instead of paint- to pay attention to the prayers. 

_‘Gabriel, hey. It's me, Dean. I just, um…I know we’re not in the best of terms. I don’t necessarily like you or trust you…’_

Gabriel smirks and says softly, “Yeah, the feeling is mutual.”

_’I wanna burn a clip in you off of principle alone, even if you’re bulletproof. And you wanna smite me for a lot less, I know. But this isn’t about our two-sided hatred. This is about the innocent lives at stake. If you do what Castiel wanted you to do, things can only go downhill and your asshole, whiny brother will destroy every single living thing on earth. You get that, right? No offence but you don’t stand a chance against Lucifer. And I can’t lose my brother again. I’m begging you, Gabriel, do not open the cage. Don’t start another Apocalypse. Please, just let things be. You can’t fix this. Please don’t do it.’_

Gabriel takes a deep breath as he feels his chest tighten. 

“Too late, Dean,” he whispers as the symbol glows and the wall shifts underneath his palm.


	34. Another One Bites The Dust

Castiel curls in on himself as the fatigue and persistent pain in his abdomen and limbs settle for a long stay. He is starving and jaded. He sits down with his back against the wall and pulls his folded legs close to his body. He closes his eyes and all he can see is the dark look on Sam’s face when Lucifer possessed him; the threat in his eyes as he took sight of Castiel that day. He then imagines Dean’s voice, chastising him for thinking he could make a difference. For trusting Gabriel over the hunter. He opens his eyes immediately and is a little surprised to find the place empty. He could have sworn he heard Dean. He sighs deeply and rests his forehead on his knees when he feels it. Tremor under the ground. He stands up shakily as the quake gets violent and increases in intensity by every passing second. Something in him grows in magnitude as well, occupying the recesses of his mind and making him feel exposed and vulnerable. Fear isn’t the sort of emotion that was once associated with the former angel. But now that he’s human, his survival instincts kick in and he feels the urge to flee to safety. However, he knows that he brought this upon himself and if there is a cause worth dying for, this is it. 

The ground cracks from the middle in what looks like a deliberate direction. When the fissures conjoin to form a circle, Castiel grabs the matchbox from his pocket and accidentally drops it as his hands tremble. He quickly retrieves it and positions himself to light the ring of holy oil. The ground collapses in the middle and a stream of blinding light and white noise fill the place. He squints and blocks his eyes with his forearm; he’s aware that if he stares too long, the light could burn his eyes out. 

“CASTIEL, DRAG HIM UP!”

Castiel recognises that voice. That’s Gabriel. He instantly moves his hand away without thinking of consequences and sees a limp body being pushed up through the pit. The body of Adam Milligan. Castiel dashes to the centre and hauls the body up. He keeps his eyes away from the inner side of the pit and focuses on pulling the dead weight away from the opening. He catches glimpses of Gabriel though. Adam looks like he got mauled. There are flaps of skin barely attached to his body, exposing his muscles. He is drenched in blood. He looks like… like he’s dead. But he still blinks with his half lidded eyes and gasps for breath when Castiel pulls him the wrong way. Gabriel must have made the same mistake that Castiel did. He retrieved the body but not the soul. Or Michael. As Castiel pulls Adam away, leaving a trail of blood, he thinks that there is at least one good thing that came out of this; the Winchesters could have their brother back. Only that he looks like he wouldn’t survive the night. Gabriel can heal the body just like Castiel did to Sam. He pulls Adam down the hallway and then runs back in to tell Gabriel that he must have left Michael in the pit. However, the pit is closing off with Gabriel in it. 

"GABRIEL! TAKE MY HAND!" Castiel shouts but he is thrown back by a forceful wind. 

The blast of air is freezing cold and his entire body feels numb. The light is startling bright and Castiel's vision is blurred. Illumination of Grace. But who does it belong to? He shuts his eyes tightly to avoid looking directly at the light.

"MOVE BACK, CASTIEL!" Gabriel shouts back. 

Castiel staggers backwards with his eyes closed and just like that, darkness and silence engulf the room again. When he carefully opens his eyes, he sees that the pit is completely shut. There are no signs of cracks on the floor. The only proof that the entire incident even happened and not just a product of Castiel's exhausted mind is the frozen, crystalline remains on the floor. That and Adam Milligan. He scuttles back to the far end of the hallway and to his dismay, he discovers that Adam is nowhere to be found. A wave of panic rushes through him and he crouches down on the floor as he can barely hold himself up. It did happen, he is sure of that. He is sure that he's awake and not drifting off in a fitful sleep. It doesn't make him feel better to know that his last hope is now stranded in the abyss with Lucifer but he knows what he saw. Just when he begins to question his sanity, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Adam, whole and completely healed. No signs of struggle at all. 

"Brother," Adam says softly.

Castiel realises that he is looking at Michael. Not Adam Milligan. He doesn't know how to react or what to say to that. He isn't even sure if this is a good idea any longer. 

"Gabriel... He's still in the--" Castiel starts.

"We couldn't both get out without letting Lucifer walk free. He stayed back and fought him as I rose," Michael explains.

"He's dead?"

"It is unfortunate but I believe that he is. I hope that he is."

"You hope he's dead?" Castiel raises his voice as the words claw out. 

Now that he's human, he can't control the anger that surfaces at hearing that. He just lost his brother. So did Michael. But unlike him, Michael shows no signs of distress and it's infuriating. Are angels meant to be stone cold and heartless? Why would God create machines that couldn't even grieve over the loss of their own kin? It's ironic that Castiel feels this righteous anger for Gabriel's sake because there was a time when Castiel himself had taken away the lives of his own siblings. He's got blood in his hands that he can't wash away but it doesn't stop him from feeling indignant at Michael's calm composure.

"Being alive down there will inevitably make him Lucifer's chew toy. And I will not wish such torment upon my own brother, Castiel. Yes, I hope he's dead. The suffering will be unbearable for him otherwise."

Castiel remembers vividly the nights in heaven when he used to listen to Gabriel's stories. His brother always had such interesting tales to share. About humanity, about moons, about all the wonders of God's creation.

 _"Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."_

Castiel was about to kill the fish out of the goodness of his heart. That little gray fish didn't belong in the shore. It was writhing on the ground as it heaved itself up, mouth opening and closing as it gasped for breath. It was in excruciating pain and Castiel wanted to end its misery. But Gabriel pulled him back on time. Castiel didn't understand why Gabriel would let that fish suffer when he could put it out of its misery. When he voiced his concern, Gabriel sat him down on that beach and explained how evolution works. His older brother assured him that there were better days ahead for this fish. That this little, powerless creature is the beginning of many magnificent creations. 

Castiel may have been incapable of caring or grieving when he was an angel. But the nostalgia is overwhelming and he feels hollow and lonely. This death is on him, just like thousands of others before Gabriel. This is how heartbreak feels like. Castiel weeps for his loss and Michael just stands still, emotionless. But his hand on Castiel's shoulder tightens a little.


	35. Goodbye (Until We Meet Again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're approaching the end of the story. :(

Despite his bone-deep weariness, Dean finds it difficult to sleep. He slips into a fitful rest and wakes up with his heart thundering in his ribcage. So, he lies awake and wonders how different life would be, were he not a hunter. When he was four, he wanted to be a fireman. He had expressed this wish to his parents and John had bought him a fireman's hat and fire trucks to play with. He can't be sure if his parents would have agreed with his career choice now -had they been alive and had life been normal for all of them. But it was quite thoughtful of John to entertain his idea as a child. So, Mary dying in a fire ran deeper than he'd ever admit. He knows now, that as a 4 year old, there wasn't much that he could have done. He did the best he could; he grabbed his brother and fled to safety. But growing up, he often blamed himself. What sort of fireman was he if he couldn't save his own mother? That dream burnt along with Mary. And that was the last time he ever had a dream of his own. He didn't spend time wondering who he could be in the future anymore. He could never be a doctor, engineer or lawyer. He couldn’t have a permanent shelter or a wife and kids of his own. So, he never indulged in such thoughts. Instead, he became everything his family needed him to be; an obedient son, a protective brother and a fierce soldier.

Now that he lets his mind backtrack into the territory that was once strewn with caution tape, he wonders what his mother would have thought of him if she could see him now. Would she have liked who he became? What would she have expected of him? He doubts that she would like him. She would have been disappointed in him. He is no better than the monsters he hunt. He has sins he can’t confess, guilt he can’t bury and self hatred he can’t swallow. 

She wanted him to be a doctor. She used to buy him plastic medical kit to play with. He liked it back then. He could imagine himself being a doctor if not a fire fighter. She taught him how to read , write and count. She would give him reading exercises in the evening before he can play because she wanted him to be well-read. He learnt one new word a day. At the age of four, he was smarter than most kids his age. His IQ was equivalent to that of a 6 year old child who attended pre-school. He was a sociable kid too; his playmates loved him. Even friends of his mother adored him. 

For once in his entire life, instead of pushing away thoughts of his past, Dean allows himself to think, _’I could have been so much more.’_

And he’s right. You see, Sam is always looked upon as the smarter brother between the two because he always puts effort in gaining knowledge. There is no questioning Sam’s intelligence. He got a full ride to Stanford University despite constantly moving around. He has the patience of a God in researching for information and has an eye for details. He is well-read and can carry an intellectual conversation with philosophers if he ever gets a chance. However, contrary to popular belief -and that includes Dean's self perception- the older hunter isn't stupid. In fact, he’s far from it. If Dean were concerned about his studies, he could have been academically excellent too. But unlike Sam, he never had the privilege of allowing himself to work hard for anything other than keeping his family alive and together. While Sam spent his weekends finishing up homework in whatever cheap motel that they stayed in for the week, Dean trained -under the critical eyes of his father- skills that were considered necessary to defend himself and his family. Dean perfected his aim and gun firing skills instead of studying text books. He only passed his GED with whatever he learnt from Sam’s homework and from the knowledge he picked up with the minimal attention he had, in whatever class he was forced to sit in. He sawed off his own shotgun in sixth grade. He even constructed an EMF meter from a walkman and rebuilt the Impala from scratch once the car was damaged beyond repair. His favourite authors are Kurt Vonnegut and Harper Lee, for the love of God. Whenever he could find time to get cosy with a book, he does. He finds an escape in the world of fiction. Besides, he feels a little closer to his mother when he reads.

However, he was never looked upon as brilliant for any of his efforts because as John would say, it’s unimportant for their survival. Success only revolved around a good hunt. Everything else is irrelevant. He has created a reputation as the brawn to Sam’s brain. He is often regarded as the one with the barge-in-with-the-guns-blazing attitude and he wears it like a medal. He never focused on his self development. As a teenager, he didn’t want to. He took pride in resembling his father. He bragged about being a hero. But the price he had to pay isn’t worth any of it. There is so much more to Dean Winchester than being every monster’s deadliest nightmare. But the world will never see it because he himself doesn’t believe there is more to him than that.

Yet, the one thing that Dean is certain he's good at is being a brother and a caretaker to Sam. If all else fails and the world dives head-first into cataclysm, there is one thing Dean can do. He can save Sam. Or he can die trying.

*****

The next morning, Dean faces a distraught Sam the moment he walks out of the shower. 

“What?” Dean asks.

“You should take a look at this,” Sam says urgently and walks over to the table that plays the role of the living room in the boathouse.

“I was surveying for electrical storms and stuffs, you know the usual kind. And I came across one that happened last night. So get this, electrical storm, unpredictable weather, animals going crazy like a deer practically ran into a car instead of the other way around, flocks of birds migrating and stuff. And this is where it gets interesting. I quote, _…a blast of light that illuminated the state of Maryland for approximately a minute. Sources have confirmed that the light emerged from— _“__

__“St. Mary’s Convent,” Dean finishes for him as he peers at the article himself._ _

__Sam turns his head away from the laptop to look at Dean. He wears the same terrorized expression that he had when he was 10 and encountered the sort of monster that he believed only existed in his nightmares. John -who was wounded and unarmed- shouted, “SHOOT, SAM! PULL THE TRIGGER!” He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. His hands were tight around the gun that he pointed forward and he was shaking so bad that he would sooner shoot John than the thing that stood before him. He shut his eyes tight as it lunged towards him and only opened them when he heard two gunshots. It wasn’t from him though. He exhaled sharply and blinked a few times before turning to his right to find Dean with a cold, hard glare staring down at the remains of the atrocious creature while still gripping the sawed-off, double-barrelled shotgun._ _

__This time is not that much different. Sam is forced to face his greatest fear all over again –because it’s quite obvious by now that fate never sides the Winchesters- and he feels helpless and terrified. Again, he finds himself waiting for his brother to figure this out._ _

__Dean says with a clench in his jaw, “Pack up, we’re going.”_ _

__*****_ _

__An hour through the quiet drive, Sam breaks the silence by asking, “What am I gonna do if Lucifer comes for me?”_ _

__“He won’t,” Dean assures._ _

__Sam snorts and looks at his brother in disbelief._ _

__“That’s all you’ve got? He won’t? Geez Dean, thanks for the reassurance.”_ _

__“He won’t cause he can’t. You’re not drinking demon blood. Your vessel can’t contain him.”_ _

__“But how if it doesn’t matter?” Sam asks quietly._ _

__"What the hell does that mean?"_ _

__"I mean I used to drink demon blood. Gallons of it. How if that's enough?"_ _

__"You said the trials purified you, remember?"_ _

__"It felt like it, yeah."_ _

__"Then, you're gonna be fine. He gotta ask your permission to wear you to prom. If he comes after you, you say no."_ _

__Sam laughs bitterly and shakes his head._ _

__“In case you don’t remember, Dean, the devil could be quite persuasive. You think he’s gonna stop once I decline?”_ _

__“Then, you keep saying no.” Dean glances over to the passenger seat to meet Sam’s eyes briefly._ _

__His voice is unwavering when he says,“You say no _every single time_ , Sammy. You hear me?”_ _

__Sam nods determinedly as he looks down at his hands. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it but he knows he will never let Lucifer in again. He promises that to himself and to Dean without actually saying it out loud._ _

__Dean then turns on the radio and focuses on the road ahead. Half an hour later, he loses control of the steering wheel and swerves the car dangerously when he hears, “Hello, Dean.” Thank whatever higher power that is watching over them because Sam has enough awareness to take the wheel from Dean and swerve them back to the road. Dean immediately hits the brake and stops at the side of the desolate highway. He slams his hand on the wheel with agitation and mutters a harsh _’Son of a bitch’_ and hangs his head backwards as he regains his breath. _ _

__Sam turns around so fast, he could have easily pulled a muscle._ _

__“Cas?” he exclaims._ _

__“Sam,” Castiel says with a small smile and nods._ _

__Dean presses the 'off' button on the radio a lot harder than necessary and turns around with a furious look on his face. The first thing he notices is how Castiel’s eyes are bright, gleaming blue again._ _

__“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he almost shouts._ _

__Castiel opens his mouth to speak but Sam interjects._ _

__“You’re an angel again?”_ _

__“Yes. Michael vanquished Metatron and has returned the Grace of all angels.”_ _

__“Lucifer?”_ _

__“He is still in the cage. Along with Gabriel.”_ _

__Sam releases a deep sigh as he looks forward and hangs his head against the headrest. The relief is visible in the way he lays back against the seat and lets his muscles relax._ _

__“Then why the hell are you here?” Dean asks, still angry at Castiel._ _

__“I came here to apologise,” Castiel answers._ _

__The crinkles at the corner of Castiel's eyes are more prominent. As though he had aged. Or consumed with exhaustion._ _

__“I’m sorry, Dean, Sam,” his eyes swivel from one hunter to the other._ _

__Dean reaches over the seat and plants his fist on the side of the angel’s face. Castiel moves his head to the left mechanically –for Dean’s sake- to reduce the impetus gained by Dean’s flying fist. Nonetheless, it hurts like hell for Dean and instead of trying to act cool, he lets out a string of curses and cradles his hand against his chest. He opens the door and steps out, face still scrunched up in pain._ _

__“Dean,” Sam calls out as he steps out of the Impala too._ _

__Castiel appears in front of Dean with a flutter of wings. He reaches out and touches Dean’s fist and the pain subsides instantly. This only serves to anger the hunter even more. He shows his appreciation by throwing another hard punch on Castiel’s jaw. Again, he shakes his hand in pain but steps back to avoid any physical contact with Castiel._ _

__He hisses with clenched teeth, “I don’t need your fucking help. And I most definitely don’t need your stupid apology.”_ _

__Sam walks over and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him down._ _

__Sam then utters quietly, “You can’t say you’re sorry, then turn around and make the same mistakes, Cas. You can’t expect us to forgive you or even trust you after all that has happened.”_ _

__“I don’t,” Castiel says._ _

__“What?” Dean barks._ _

__“I have come to terms with the fact that there is nothing I can say or do to redeem myself to the two of you. I have betrayed your trust and wronged you time and time again. I don’t expect forgiveness.”_ _

__Dean rolls his eyes and tugs at Sam’s sleeve._ _

__“Let’s go,” Dean says as he turns away._ _

__“Dean, wait. I need…”_ _

__Dean stares at him indignantly._ _

__Castiel sighs before trying again._ _

__"I need the angel tablet."_ _

__Sam throws a suspicious glance while Dean laughs bitterly and says, "Yeah, go fuck yourself."_ _

__"It isn't a request, Dean."_ _

__"Oh, I'm sorry. Was that an order, Mr. Holy Servant of the Lord?"_ _

__"I'm an angel, not a servant. And yes, I believe it was."_ _

__Dean moves forward in temper but Sam stops him with a hand across his chest to pull him back._ _

__"Who the hell does he think he is?" Dean asks Sam in disbelief._ _

__Sam wears a hard expression as he glares at Castiel and asks, "What for?"_ _

__"Michael is sealing Heaven until all of our problems are solved. The angels are returning home for once and for all. It is risky to leave the angel tablet on Earth where it can be misused."_ _

__"You think we're gonna mess with your tablet?" Sam asks incredulously._ _

__"I don't but Michael does. He is concerned that Abaddon may take hold of it. He has demanded that I bring it back home."_ _

__"Now, you're Michael's bitch. Wow, colour me surprised," Dean retorts._ _

__"No, I am not. I have to redeem myself among the Heavenly Hosts, Dean. You of all people, are aware of the devastation I have caused. Michael has given me an opportunity to reinstate my loyalty by returning to Heaven and assisting him in fixing all that is broken."_ _

__“Yeah, that is if you don’t destroy the entirety of heaven first.”_ _

__“Dean,” Sam says in an attempt of stopping him from uttering hurtful things._ _

__Castiel just looks down at his feet. Dean climbs in the car and Sam hesitantly follows._ _

__Instead of driving off, he calls out with exasperation, “You want the tablet or not?”_ _

__Castiel vanishes and appears in the back seat of the Impala. The ride to Garth’s boathouse is deafeningly silent. Once they arrive, Dean runs up the small flight of stairs, goes through Kevin’s usual entrance test and brings out the tablet. Surprisingly, Kevin doesn’t argue. He is relieved to get rid of the tablet. Maybe now he can return to a normal life. The kid can hope, right?_ _

__“Here’s your dumb stone. Now go pass it to your boss,” Dean snaps._ _

__“Yes, I will.”_ _

__Castiel is still perched on the seat, looking down at the tablet._ _

__“What, Cas?” Dean asks a little less threateningly._ _

__“Michael gave me a choice. I could stay on earth or return to heaven. Whatever choice I make, there is no going back. He is closing the gates with or without me inside.”_ _

__The Winchesters wait quietly for what he has to say. Castiel looks at them expectantly._ _

__When he hears no response, he sighs deeply before continuing, “I have to atone for my sins.”_ _

__“So, this is the last time we’ll be seeing you then,” Sam states._ _

__Castiel nods solemnly. Dean doesn’t say anything. He just looks at him for a long minute, and lets the silence stretch._ _

__Sam pats Castiel on the shoulder, “It’s been a hell of a ride, Cas. Don’t screw up again, alright?”_ _

__Castiel nods with a sad smile._ _

__“I need to ask for one last favour from you.”_ _

__“What?” Sam asks._ _

__“I have to release the vessel to show good faith, as proof that I will not abandon heaven to walk on Earth again. I wish to pay Jimmy Novak my last respects. Can you cremate his body on my behalf?”_ _

__Sam looks to Dean who is still staring at Castiel wordlessly. When he notices that the attention is on him, he clears his throat and shrugs._ _

__“Yeah, whatever,” Dean says nonchalantly as he turns his back to Castiel._ _

__“Bury the body or salt and burn?” Sam asks._ _

__“The latter is more preferable. A hunter's funeral,” Castiel smiles._ _

__“A hunter's funeral,” Dean repeats softly._ _

__“Yes,” Castiel says as he feels the need to answer._ _

__He steps out of the car and waits. After a moment, Sam and Dean realise that he’s waiting for them to exit the car to shed his vessel. They step out of the car and stand before Castiel. Dean leans on the door when the uncomfortable silence drags._ _

__“This is goodbye,” Castiel announces._ _

__Sam reaches over to pat him on the shoulder but Castiel moves forward quickly and grabs both the brothers. He hugs them while they stand rigidly._ _

__Sam, at least has enough sense to slap a hand on his back uncomfortably and say, “Yeah, yeah. Okay, Cas.”_ _

__Dean just stands without leaning forward or saying anything. When Castiel releases them both, he still has his left hand on Sam’s shoulder and the right on Dean’s._ _

__He squeezes as he says sincerely, “Thank you, both of you. Thank you for everything.”_ _

__Sam just nods with the lack of things to say and Dean tightens his lips into a thin line. He chooses to remain silent._ _

__“Oh, one more thing.” Castiel reaches his suit pocket and removes the angel blade._ _

__He twirls it in his hand expertly so that the handle is facing Dean and says, “I want you to have this.”_ _

__“No, thanks,” Dean says._ _

__“You will have to face Abaddon one day or another. My blade can kill demons. You will need it, Dean.”_ _

__“Like I said, I don’t need shit from you,” Dean utters bitterly._ _

__Castiel just tugs Dean’s hand and places it in his palm before squeezing the hand shut._ _

__“As remembrance then,” Castiel says._ _

__Dean wants to turn it down. He wants to spout harsh things like how he doesn’t need to remember Castiel let alone keep his memento. But he finds it difficult to speak so he doesn’t._ _

__Castiel takes a deep breath and nods to himself as though he’s strengthening his resolve._ _

__“Close your eyes,” he warns._ _

__The Winchesters turn their backs on him and shut their eyes tightly. Castiel makes his exit in a stream of light until Jimmy Novak’s lifeless body falls to the ground. As an angel, he doesn’t have a definite form. So, he just floats above as rays of light and looks down at the Winchesters for the last time._ _

__After a minute, Dean opens his eyes and turns around slowly. He sees Jimmy Novak on the ground. He touches Sam’s shoulder to indicate that it’s okay to open his eyes. They both stare at the body of Jimmy Novak for a while before moving forward to carry it. Dean grabs the upper body while Sam carries his legs. They place him in the back seat of the car with his crumpled trench coat and all. Dean looks at Jimmy’s face and wonders how Castiel and Jimmy can look so alike but yet so different. He reaches over and closes Jimmy’s open eyes. These eyes are a dark, depressing blue._ _

__He stares one last time before climbing into the driver’s seat and driving away to some place where they can cremate the body._ _

__“You okay?” Sam asks with caution._ _

__“What?” Dean asks distractedly but before Sam could repeat, the question registers in his head and he answers, “I’m fine.”_ _

__“You don’t have to lie to me. I can see it on your face.”_ _

__“Then, you can see that I meant what I said. Cause there’s nothing on my face.”_ _

__“Yeah, that’s cause you’re trying too hard to look unaffected,” Sam retorts._ _

__He sighs and explains, “Dean, he is your best friend, practically the only friend you had. The angel that dragged your ass out of hell. It’s okay to feel sad. You know I won’t mock you. ”_ _

__Dean doesn’t say anything. He just turns on the radio and drums his fingers on the steering wheel._ _

__*****_ _

__After the salt-and-burn, they stand there for a moment. Dean watches as the corner of the trench coat that peeks out from the fort made of logs, catch on fire. If he feels sentimental about it, no one has the right to judge. He snaps himself out of the gloomy mood. After all, it’s not like Castiel’s dead. But that’s the thing. He is as good as dead. He will never be seen again. No one will ever tilt their head or squint their eyes the way he does when he's confused. No one will be as indifferent to pop culture references as he is -sorry, was. Despite the differences between Jimmy and Castiel, they still wear the same face. Now that Jimmy’s gone, so is the image of Castiel. Dean silently panics as the realisation hits hard. He wonders if he should have kept the trench coat. But then again, he still has Castiel's FBI badge to remember his face when he forgets. He also has the angel blade. And he has Castiel's phone and his ridiculous voice mail command if he forgets his voice. He reprimands himself inwardly because he really shouldn't feel this sentimental. The last time he felt this way was when Bobby died and he tried to hold onto whatever he can. Because he remembers how it felt to slowly forget his mother's face and her voice. It was terrifying. Sometimes, he thinks hard to recall his father's voice in fear of forgetting him too. He calls Bobby's phone once in a while to remind himself of how Bobby sounded. But Castiel isn't family. So, he shouldn't feel that way towards him. Except he's the angel that resurrected Dean from Hell. Castiel helped him save Sam from Lilith by disclosing the bond between prophets and archangels. The same angel who remained behind with Chuck to hold back Raphael and let Sam and Dean escape, carved an angel banishing sigil into his chest and activated it to clear the way from angels who were likely to stop the Winchesters, threw a Molotov cocktail at Michael, redeemed Sam from the cage, fled to keep Dean safe from Leviathans in Purgatory... God, the crazy lengths that Castiel has gone for them. Who is he kidding? Castiel _is_ as close to family as it gets._ _

__Sam must have witnessed the inner turmoil on Dean’s face because he starts to say something._ _

__“Dean--“_ _

__“He could have stayed.”_ _

__Sam takes a few moments to understand._ _

__“You could have asked him to.”_ _

__“Yeah, like that would have made a difference. He always leaves and you know it.”_ _

__“You didn’t even try, Dean.”_ _

__Dean just walks away without voicing out his thoughts._ _

_‘I told him I needed him before but he left anyway. Why would this time be any different?’_

__*****_ _

__Castiel watches as Sam and Dean carry his vessel to the back seat of the Impala. He feels sorrowful. He immediately regrets the decision. He wishes so badly he could occupy the vessel again as he watches Dean close Jimmy Novak’s eyes. However, he needs permission for that and Jimmy isn’t alive to say yes again. He would have stayed if the Winchesters asked him to. Deep down, he wishes they did. He wishes they demanded him to stay despite Castiel's explanation as to why he should return to heaven. He wants to laugh at himself for being conflicted. His time on Earth has made him as fickle-minded as the humans he once deemed weak. However, he likes the thought of being able to feel. He used to see nothing but pain, anger and guilt in emotions. Now, he views it as more than that. There is love and care, purity and selflessness. There is beauty. And he's the only angel who has been blessed enough to feel. Who would have thought that falling from Grace could lead to a free fall of discovery? Castiel has discovered many things about himself but his most worthwhile lesson has been the realisation that there is nothing more important than family. Which is why he finds it difficult to tear himself away as he watches the Winchesters climb in the car and drive away. After all, family is two orphan boys and home is a long, black car._ _

__He returns to Heaven once the car is out of sight. He gives the tablet to Michael and watches as Michael seals the tablet with an Enochian spell. No one can touch the tablet now. Not even angels. Michael then elevates Castiel from a seraph to an archangel. This surprises Castiel; after all, he is the reason why the angels had fallen. Considering that Michael is the only archangel left, he assures Castiel that he needs another angel to lead the garrison. But he has also mentioned that Castiel will have to follow his orders diligently and dedicate his existence to bring heaven back to its former glory. That will be the reparation for his past mistakes. Castiel is grateful for the forgiveness and compassion he has received. He decides to make the most of it. He will devote his life to building his home and uniting his family.__

When he is adjourned from Michael's presence, he visits the eternal Tuesday afternoon of an old friend. He sits quietly and watches the man fly his kite in the park. It is reassuring to Castiel. A constant he can hold on to. At night, he has to return to his part of heaven as he holds the duty of raising the moon -yes, Castiel is the ruling prince of moon now while Michael rules the suns. But for now, he can bask in the sunshine in the park. It has been the same since the first time Castiel discovered this patch of heaven but it feels so different. Nothing here has changed except Castiel's outlook of it. Now, when he looks over to the autistic man, he feels a surge of affection that he has never felt towards the man before. He smiles as the man looks at him briefly. Upon making eye contact, the man immediately turns away, even takes a few steps further from Castiel. The archangel doesn't push his way into the man's territory. He is content to sit and observe. That's when he hears it.

_'Castiel, you feathered douchebag...'_

He laughs a little. Same old Dean. He didn't realise how much he missed hearing his prayers. His mind was so quiet when he was human. Maybe that was the reason behind his loneliness. His grace is in place, filling the once hollow body, Dean's voice occupies the recesses of his mind and he finally feels like the crack in his chassis is repaired. He is whole. 

_'I know you can hear me so listen up..._

"I always do, Dean," Castiel says although he knows Dean can't hear his reply.

The journey never quite ends. He will always watch over the Winchesters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who took the time to read this story. I am eternally grateful :') I was wondering if I should write an epilogue. So, if you want a different ending, I can write one more chapter. (Yes, I am getting clingy to this story. It's the longest one I've ever written.)


	36. Lay Your Weary Head To Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue to the story.

“Dean...”

“Yeah?”

“I don't think I'll... I mean, I _know_ I won't survive this. So, I guess--” 

“Nope.”

“Nope? The hell does that mean?”

“It means nope. No. Nein.”

“Dean, you know--”

“I know, Sammy. Don't mean we gotta talk about it.”

“So, what? We just get this done and that's it? No goodbyes and stuff?”

“I don't wanna hear your _'I'm prepared to die'_ speech, alright? We've done this way more times than I prefer. We're gonna do this, together. Period.”

Dean then raises the volume of the radio in the Impala to drown out Sam's protests. After a while, Sam stops trying. Dean's humming turns into loud, obnoxious singing.

“ _My friends are gonna be there too. I'm on the highway to hell. On the highway to hell. Highway to hell. I'm on the highway to hell._ Come on, Sammy. Sing with me.“

Sam shoots him an annoyed glare and keeps his mouth shut. Dean coaxes him by glancing every once in a while.

“... _Nobody's gonna slow me down. Like a wheel, gonna spin it_...”

Despite the cheap attempt at humour by his brother, Sam can't help but smile a little at the irony of the song choice. 

“Your turn, Sammy,” Dean says jokingly as he punches him in the arm.

Sam laughs as he belts out the verse, “ _Hey satan, payin' my dues. Playin' in a rockin' band. Hey mumma, look at me. I'm on the way to the promised land._ ”

Dean heartily laughs at that and they both belt out the last few lines of the chorus. This, Dean can do. This is what they're familiar with. He can joke around and sing through their last moments together. But he can't possibly sit there as he drives and listen to Sam spout shit like how he's grateful to Dean for everything he has ever done for his kid brother or how he wants Dean to live a happy life with or without him. Because if he has to listen to Sam say that, he would turn this car around and drive back to the bunkers. He will let Abaddon kill every last person on Earth before she gets to Sam. And that's not what a righteous man should do. 

Dean takes a brief look at Sam. The corners of his lips are still twisted in a small smile as he taps a rhythm on his thigh with his fingers. He is probably immersing himself in the familiar comfort of AC/DC. John used to play this cassette at night to keep himself awake as he drove for hours without stopping for a break. Sam used to sleep in the back seat, too tired to be bothered by the loud music. Tears well in Dean's eyes and he quickly averts his gaze to the road. They've done this at least twice before but it's just so goddamn hard to let go. After all, his entire life has revolved around watching out for Sam. It's unfair that the younger hunter has to be the one to sacrifice himself. Dean hates himself for not being able to replace Sam in this task.

He hears a groan from the back seat and takes a fleeting look at the rear-view mirror. Crowley begins to stir as the drugs wear off and he regains consciousness. Sam opens the small, front pocket of his duffel bag and removes a container that holds the syringes. He picks one with blue liquid in it and effectively plunges it on Crowley's thigh. Crowley emits a high-pitched noise before settling down again. 

“How is he the same asshole that once ruled Hell?” Sam asks.

“Your blood did that. You should donate some for medicinal purposes. Maybe you could cure cancer and shit like that.”

Sam smacks upside his head and says,“Jerk.”

“You don't hit the driver, bitch.”

*****

It has been 4 years since the angels packed their wings and left Earth for good. But things that go bump in the night still do take up space on Earth. Abaddon who remained unobstructive for some time, had built an entire army of demons to make a paradise out of Earth. The hunters aren’t idiots. They know she wasn’t going to stay out for long. But they didn’t expect her to crawl out of the pits of hell one day and go on a killing rampage just to attract their attention. She kills for the thrill of it; to establish her authority. But the most pressing concern for the residents of hell is the Winchesters since they have shown once, that they hold the lock to the gates of hell. Dean knew that she wanted to get to Sam so he kept Sam hidden in the bunkers for a few months. She couldn’t get to him even if she tried. And that’s when she began attacking the ones closest to the Winchesters. She did what Crowley had done before; she went after the ones that the Winchesters saved. After killing 12 of them, she went after Garth. And lastly, Kevin. Dean fought so hard but he was rendered helpless when she pinned him to the wall and made him watch as she sliced Kevin’s throat. Kevin Tran died a hero because until the very end of her series of tortures, he did not disclose information about Sam. 

Instead he spat on her face as she held him against the wall and said, “I’m not afraid of you.”

And that’s when she cut his throat with her nails and left him gurgling in his own blood. Dean screamed and screamed until he lost his voice but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move. By the time she was gone, Dean felt nothing but violent, unrestrained anger. He carried Kevin and placed him in his Impala and drove to the bunkers. Sam opened the door to find a bloodied, bruised Dean, cradling the body of the prophet.

He looked the older hunter dead in his eyes and said with fury, “I’m gonna end her.”

Dean didn’t protest. Didn’t fight back. Didn’t say any one of those, ‘ _Let’s find a way to kill her without killing you_ ’ bullshit. 

“We’re gonna take that bitch down,” he said with clenched teeth.

And that’s how they ended up tracking down Crowley. He was one step away from being cured. If he were still alive, it would make things a whole lot easier because Abaddon is smart enough to keep her demon slaves away from the hunters. After an entire week of extensive research and barely enough sleep to live, they found him in Florida State Hospital. He had lost his mind and didn’t recognise the Winchesters. He murmurs nonsensical things and screams for no apparent reason. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone or attempt to communicate. He was locked up in the psych ward for being harmful to himself –apparently, he gets violent and slams his head against the nearest surface until he loses consciousness. It took the Winchesters six hours of planning before they broke in and kidnapped him. And now, the Impala is parked in front of the old, abandoned church as Dean looks over at Sam.

“This is it, huh?”

Sam smiles and throws his arms around Dean. He squeezes him tightly as he feels Dean wrap his arms around him and sigh shakily. 

“It’s for the best,” he replies as he pulls away.

Dean gets out and drags Crowley into the church while Sam carries their bags in. Dean then ties Crowley to a chair while Sam paints the Devil’s trap as a precaution. When Sam walks towards the confession room, Dean pats him in the back for one last time and offers the demon knife before shutting the door behind him and locking Sam and Crowley in. He then stands outside and guards the door with an angel blade in hand, ready to smite anything that dares approach the church. 

He mutters to himself, “Now we wait.”

*****

Abaddon doesn’t disappoint. She shows up 6 hours later. Dean knew she was coming when the wind got stronger and sent chills down his spine. He noticed how the sky was occupied by dark, lenticular clouds which are only found around mountain ranges. They are nowhere close to a mountain which indicates whatever that influenced the weather wasn’t natural. It got easier to predict, moments before her arrival. The fuse box exploded and released sparks. The radio in the Impala turned on and produced static noises, which naturally pissed Dean off even more because she may be the Devil’s spawn for all he cares but no one messes with his Baby.

Abaddon should have learnt her lesson the first time around though. Because when she makes an appearance, Dean doesn’t waste time. He lights up the trail of holy oil and watches as the hem of her jeans –or more accurately, the jeans of the poor woman she is possessing- catch on fire. While she’s distracted, he throws a Molotov cocktail at her -he learnt from a friend- and watches with a smirk as the body she’s wearing, bursts into flames and she exits as black smoke. She’ll be back, he knows. And he might not be able to keep her at bay the next time. But as of now, he bought Sam some time to finish the final trial.

*****

When she returns, she’s more than mildly annoyed. Before he can even grab another Molotov cocktail, she hurls him at the Impala. The force of his body hitting the driver’s side door caused a dent. She moves towards the church door. There’s still half an hour on the clock before the exorcism. And Dean still has the angel blade tucked away in the back of his pants. 

He pulls it out, stands shakily and says, “We ain’t done, bitch!”

*****

The wooden doors break open as Abaddon flings him across. He falls hard on his back. She walks in and slams her right leg on the floor. It cracks open beneath her feet and the Devil’s Trap is broken. 

“Run, Crowley,” Abaddon hisses.

However, Crowley just looks up at Sam with glassy eyes and offers his neck willingly. Sam immediately begins reciting the exorcism chant and cuts his palm with the knife that Dean gave him earlier.

Dean shouts, “SAM, NOW!” 

The older hunter then stands up and swings his fist against Abaddon’s face in a futile attempt to hold her back. She grabs the hand that is holding the angel blade and twists it in his direction. With a forceful thrust, the blade stabs Dean in the abdomen. She twists the knife to plunge it in deeper.

“DEAN!” Sam yells.

As he drops to his knees, Dean says, “Keep going.”

With all he could muster, he pulls out the blade and stabs Abaddon in her leg. She lets out an ear-piercing shriek. Maybe the demon knife can’t do much damage but the angel blade definitely slows her down. She extracts the blade from where it sticks out and throws it across the room. She then repeatedly slams her fist on Dean’s face. When it looks like the fight in him flickers out, she holds his right leg and with one violent twist, breaks his leg. This has rendered Dean immobile as she drags her wounded leg to reach to Sam. 

Dean looks up from where he’s lying to see Sam smile down at him reassuringly as he puts his cut palm against Crowley’s mouth, letting the blood drip into him directly. Abaddon screams in horror as Sam finishes with the Enochian spell. An invisible force field forms around Sam and Crowley that knocks Abaddon out. But it doesn’t end there. She looks like she is being sucked into a vortex. Dean watches as she disappears into thin air and turns around to find Sam. 

“Sam?”

Sam is on the floor, near Crowley’s chair with one hand reached out towards Dean. But his eyes are half-open and unblinking and he looks like... like he’s not breathing.

Dean says as his voice tremors, “Sammy. Please, God. No.”

He has a broken leg, a bashed-in face and a deep stab wound in his abdomen. But somehow, the worst pain that he feels is in his chest. He can't breathe; it feels like his ribcage is about to break. He closes his eyes as it hurts to blink and lets out an excruciating scream as he sobs. He knows it’s not too long before his end but he can’t find it in him to care. He wants to move closer to Sam. Wants to reach out and grab his hand that was obviously reaching out towards Dean before he took his last breath. Cradle Sam’s body in his arms and weep for his little brother who always has to be the one to save the world. Why can't life ever be easy for Sam? But he can’t move. He tries to crawl towards Sam but a searing pain shoots in his abdomen and he finds himself vomiting blood on the floor. He curls to his side and cries as he stares at the younger hunter. He thinks back to his promise.

_As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you._

He failed to keep that promise, to protect his brother. 

He whispers,“I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m so sorry.”

He clutches one hand against his stomach where he’s bleeding profusely and tries to reach out with his other hand. Although he knows that his fist is closing around nothing but air, he feels something warm in the palm of his outreached hand. There is light around him. He freaks out because the gates of Hell should be locked down for good. He did not let his brother -that he practically raised since the kid was in his diapers- die for nothing. He turns around on his back and tries to find the blade to fight this evil bastard off only to realise that the angel blade is at the other end of the room. He could hardly breathe without choking on his own blood; the taste of copper is so familiar in his mouth. He spits out the blood and feels something grip his hand firmly. He gives up. This is the moment Dean Winchester gives up. 

He doesn’t care anymore. His brother is dead and he is about to die. They should have shut the gates of Hell by now. The world should be a safer place. There is nothing left to do, nothing to live for and he doesn’t have it in him to keep fighting. So, he just lays there and gives it permission to end his existence. Except the pain subsides to a low hum under his skin at the touch. He turns around to meet this blinding light and he wonders what on earth is this creature. Did they unleash something else as they put the demons in a lockdown? And then he hears it. A loud, screeching static noise. Somehow this feels familiar too. Like pain and grief and disappointment, this feels very familiar to Dean. But unlike others, this noise is comforting. He is tempted to shut his eyes as it hurts to look at the light and close his ears to stop the ringing noise in his head but he can’t move. He’s glad he can’t. Because he might have missed the words if he did. He laughs a little only to gurgle his own blood and choke on it. He coughs his lungs out but settles on his back with a smile on his face and closes his eyes. He can let go. He knows Sam is safe. Everything is going to be okay. Now that he hears it loud and clear, he can finally rest. He takes one last shallow breath as his life seeps out of him.

The last words that Dean Winchester ever hears are from an old friend.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If written stories can have background music, if I can choose a song to play for closing credits of this story, this will be it.
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Kf8a3vcjUc
> 
> Thank you for reading, guys.


End file.
